Crisp cold
creates clear sky...

Too much focus on the what, the go-here go-there...
I'm looking for the why, the whats-on-the-way...

The table, divided like city streets
by lines of fairy dust on wings...

Comfortably cornered
in the confines...

Come into this open hand,
Extended, helping you to stand...

The loss...
the vacancy caused by that which barely was...