1/31/09: Optics

The reflected sun

is a tiny flame drilling

through sidewalk ice.

1/30/09: Thinking of Spring

Streetlights throw shadows

like petals from my feet—I

walk home in flower.

1/29/09: Rubbing My Eyes

What I thought was fog

was snow-crowded air falling,

burying my tracks.

1/28/09: Tried

That one thousand mile

trip starting with one step can

end anytime now.

1/27/09: Restart

Eyes open, waiting

for the alarm’s sting to spur

me to move again.

1/26/09: Breakfast

A clementine sits

on the table’s horizon

before sunrise.

1/25/09: Walking After Dark

Passing windows lit

against the darkness—TVs

on in every one.

1/24/09: Walking Before Dawn

The storefront window

throws green light onto the snow

and my eyes see grass.

1/23/09: Thwarted

Broken icicles

scattered over the steps as if

the dragon fled.

1/22/09: Up Early

When the heater stops

blowing, I hear my breathing

warming the silence.