(no subject)
The Snow Cometh
and i am home, sick.
Gusty winds all night, morning
as i toss and turn
within comfy sheets, mind ranging from highs
to terrors hanging overhead.
dreams of spiders never seen in my childhood bed, of more and more spiders...
STOP
the mind settles and I roll to rest anew,
floating on the tail end of NyQuil,
body exhausted and healing
At 2 I rise, amazed at the time.
Breakfast - not hungry, but probably necessary
OJ, water, pills, water, water water
work beckons and the snow starts
first a flake half imagined,
I settle in to the one task I'll complete today
before bed beckons again...
I see the trees and bushes swirl about,
the gusts of the night have returned
and big flakes start swirling around
a haze out in the distance,
a pale shine on the leaf of the ficcus all that reminds the sun still shines.
work is finished,
snow starts to accumulate
and the smell of salt reminds me I'm sick.
The Snow Cometh.