a man stands on a murky sidewalk, staring through a luminous window across the road. what is he waiting for? i imagine an invisible wall of cold regrets prohibiting his transit into the warmth of a home perhaps no longer his.
a rivulet of just-used air extends from my lips into the landscape, clouding over a cat's silky trip along my path.
it's not enchanting to know we travel so alone with one another, lost in thoughts of winter, death and hope.