today is a colloid
grey thoughts floating
in a loose, January fog
somewhere ahead, a focus
Wan grasses straightened alert in ovals of melting snow. That old board emerges as I squint to see the lost broom, coming out next to the car. It's only January: winter will freeze it all soon again. Off in the distance, South Sister is gathering more snow from crowning clouds.
On the porch, a calligraphy of brisk junco tracks and one big boot print. Easy to see who ate the bird seed and who brought in the wood.