A Winter’s Night

hourglassThe ice expands the wood

Congesting the door to its frame

And I have to pull harder

To get it to open.


A treacherous draft hits my face

And I gasp with the impact,


There are chores to be done,

But my mind is already elsewhere,


I dig my heels into the snow tentatively

Re-checking my pocket for the grocery list

Things I write down because I occasionally

Forget where I am and what I am supposed

To be doing.


There is an unhappiness that surrounds

People with things;

Material, immobile to their consciousness,

The noose around the neck

Tightening its grip,


I have stopped counting days

By man-made calendars

Or watches that tick out of semblance,

For I refuse the dominion of a life

That will end with death,


My brother drives

Lost in thoughts somewhere,


I look at him

And think of the escape

We all attempt at least once or twice

No matter how shoddy the plan.


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