poem | a night kitchen

sun in cold

even the sun not enough
to thaw my skin
still I love it

Snow on the mountain —
more beautiful the farther from home I get

Morning snowfall —
shovel scrapes
making a path:
useless

Not enough footsteps on the snow to clear a good path —
take the road

even in December —
the sun on the back of my neck

no mint for the mocha —
holiday’s on the speakers

midnight —
across the alley
Christmas lights going out

knife in the window display
catches my eye as I pass

after a sleepless night,
half a cloud
then blue