I move nearer the window to write with a view to the east. Instead of sunrise, day drifts in with a gradual graying, dark to light. After an hour…after two, still in pajamas with steaming mug of coffee and streaming ink of words. The few cars passing are hunched in snow, headlights on.
Next up, yoga and cocoa and springtime thaw.
even the snow plow
shushes along
muffled by winter
Puff Of Smoke Poems 