Something. New.

There is fog in the air as you drive to town,
a mist more than a rain, fading the snow
that fell during the night, that hangs
on the limbs and wires, waiting for wind or thaw,
for the something next, whatever will shake
off the heavy white weight.

There is something in the air. You can feel it.
Not wind exactly, maybe a shift in temperature
or light, something inperceptable, except
you do perceive it, in ways you cannot express.
a change. Something new approaching,
perhaps like a wolf in the night,
perhaps like a lover. Something.
New.

About this poem.

It snowed last night. The first real snow of the year, late this year, a heavy snow that leaves the landscape silent and still. I have no idea whether the weather will warm or not. The picture was taken on the way to town this morning.

I have been living in this strange sense that there are changes coming in my life and work. I have no idea what, but there is a certainty that it is happening. And that it will be good. So for now, I simply enjoy the beautiful moments, and wait for it, that something. New.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom