Winter at my window.

It’s been a lovely, blue-sky, technicolor fall. Cold-air scents more frequently trigger my memory. I’m in so many places and times when I walk down the sidewalk, leaves crunching beneath my feet.

But today is not a sunny day. Today it looks almost like winter out my window, which puts a little icy fear into my heart. You understand… there’s something hopeless about winter. Something empty.

I have several lines cast. The act of casting is joyous. There my sturdy line goes, connected to my overflowing heart and my ever-whirring mind. I wake up the next morning, no tugs. I get tangled in my lines and curl up, confused.

My heart is resilient, but my mind whirls all the harder… trying to make sense out of it, realizing it can’t, and then my heart pangs at its counterpart. They are both dizzy now.

I look inside myself at these things happening. I take my glasses off to look at myself, you know.

They tell me I’m actually short-sighted.


One thought on “Winter at my window.

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