Everything is 
a mirror 
this night 
shiny and 
wet reflecting
except shadows 
that run
from door
to car
or that
walk around 
avoiding and
dodging funny 
how people 
simply disappear 
in rain

Dark and wet
these gloves are
once molded snow 
and now drip
and hopefully dry
hanging on hooks 
atop the radiator 
looking just like 
icicles that drip
in the sun
making little lakes 
snow almost always 
goes like this 
back to the 
place it came 

I imagine creek
maybe brook even 
stream but not 
spring for spring
comes after thaw
and me I
am still frozen 
still cold and 
dark and whatever 
water that there
is is white 

It’s the pause 
that paws me
the hiccup and 
its hesitation that 
startles the start
no yield no 
warning of this 
bumpity bump causing 
me to slow 
looking back I
see none either 
whatever it was 
must’ve limped away 
into the forest 
to lick wounds 
to heal or
maybe to die 
on I go
my merry way 
wishing my best 
to the interruption 
my bumpity bump

And each inch
turns into foot
and each minute 
into an hour 
so does day
ever so slowly 
creep up over 
and beyond like 
little fingers slowly 
reaching for cookies 
and the light 
ahead of darkness 
or maybe behind 
edges out night 
like some anxious 
onlooker vying for 
a better seat