The days long agowhen small boxes full of empty promise
filled my pockets
Winter approaches
the boundary of summer's lingering light
reflects off skin wet with sweat
Hibernation and soup and books and woolen sweaters
stars silent across the frozen sky
my breath exhales summer
I am in and out friends, in and out. On the lam, my wings spread, I opened myself up to what-may-come and standing here in the great welcome what-may-come I find myself intact and quiet. I suppose that I would like to explain how I finally start to understand that I've made a mess of my talents, not applied myself rigorously in my pursuits. If I were to say that, I would be a liar.
I take aim
exhale and steady my approach
Help is on the way
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