ceci n’est pas une blog.

wandering towards the river on a gray day

that could get no grayer,

i could vanish on these slushy streets.

my boots leave temporary marks in the shifting snow,

puddles that fill in as I step away

as if they were never there.

holding tight to my muse, i struggle to complete

myself against the falling clouds.

i fold and unfold myself

between the pages of tomes

and creases on roadmaps,

the lines along the highway

and the walls along the edge.

i fade into the landscape,

a tired gray tree above the frozen mud,

dead leaves piled at my feet.

locked in, frozen, stuck

i’m blanketed in cold but

the thaw must always come.

the earth takes herself back and grows,

echoing hope inside my head -

we shall have our colors again.