Sitting here 
I noticed 
a book
tucked behind 
not between 
the bookends
getting up 
going over 
I found 
it filled 
with stories 
that so
long ago 
I’d cherished 
and now 
it’s chairside
and my
new favorite 
once again 

This week between 
a drowsy thing 
like a nap
that’s turned into 
a night’s sleep 
where nothing’s done 
that was meant 
just another year 
come and gone 

Seeing snow 
before others 
stir awake
is like 
being handed
your own 
birthday cake 
before the 
knife slices
and others 
do take 

The light it
came bouncing in
like lazy flashlights 
or far away
headlights searching through 
and over hills
bathing my room 
in an eerie 
iridescence akin to
a student solving 
a math problem 
a quiet ahh
followed by huh
as I peek
and see snow 

The outside is 
a frosted donut 
in a tray
of silent white 
like some baker
with a shaky
hand scattered icing 
all over everything 
soon though the 
sun will come 
like hungry hands 
and not even 
footprints will remain