Shoveling

Standard

Muscle memory, its folds and flows,
wraps me in a billowing cloud.

The snow has shrouded every path,
every avenue and road.

Whereas before the stars showed only
reflections of what was already there,

they now reveal new entities and shapes.
The drapes are duly drawn.

On the lawn, whispers
put forth a cryptic inquiry.

Tomorrow is an unconquerable vastness.
Today is merely steam.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s