Shoelaces in knots, my fingers numb while i tie those uneven strands
i take the snow-shores that cut alongside the plowed roads
the cold burns, i endure the five fahrenheit, my race keeping me thawed
behind me, the sky is a slow fade of sun-paint, echoing clearly, gently embracing dark
i look back to catch glimpses. i am Lot's wife, seized by the sky, frozen by the captivating
my breath is smoke, a curling furnace of oxygen torn to ice
wind-tears from dry eyes collect at my lashes and attach at each blink
tombstone silhouettes, lines crisp with gold edge work, sewn in strips of sunlight
a graveyard lullaby, they race across the white hills;
their loud silence a lonely ember, weak and cooling, but still, that fire undiminished.
i am surrounded, ghosts and angels; God too - i listen.
between sun-fade and moon, i run.
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