Winter

January 2026

-1-


on the balcony
morning cup on the table
no steam
north winds push foam across the sand


-2-


the old worn chair
gently wraps me

steam lifts into the room from a mug full of tea

outside

winter wind
moves the trees
into sound

sharp, bitter


-3-


One day I walked north.
The next, south.

After a few days, south felt quieter, broader.
South became the way.

When I tried north again, I met my goals
but didn’t go as far.
The sand was softer.
My calves tired.

Today I headed south,
believing I had found the way.

The sand was soft.


-4-


a short walk this morning
air crisp, sun bright
breath a thick fog

stopped beside a footprint in the snow
it is not nothing
but has no agenda

does not say what it means
does not instruct 

I resume walking