On Oxford at Twilight Hours

 

With smoke low in the chill air

 Hanging as a gentle reminder

 To say the season of cold has not given up yet on us.

Seeping under poorly sealed windows and laying outside is a thick ocean of chill ether

Biting and bracing it reminds us of the reality of the north in March.

 

I long for warmth as much as

 I long for clarity.

 I long for a predictable season as much as I long

For a predictable life.

 

 I snap a photograph of coming night

 Maybe in the overly hot days of August the blue dark image remind me of the coolness of spring

 And the wonderful smell of smoke

 Lights are on now

This walk is done.