December Growing Pains
A million pushes and pulls
Like tides inside my gut
My heart fills my stomach
I’ve missed the snow
I haven’t missed this feeling
I don’t know what to say to you these days
But I feel like writing again
Music makes more sense
And people seem more strange.
Mailbox
I passed three people
Checking their mail
On the drive home today.
The sun was orange
And hung low and heavy in the sky.
It was 4:03.
There was ice on the roads.
Maybe I am made for that sort of life.
Normalcy and routine.
Checking the mail
At the same time as my neighbor.
Making eye contact.
Remarking about the weather
In foggy breaths.
Smiling and perpetuating
Those little priceless moments
Of domestic comradry.