ode to the day

the afternoon typifies early winter around these parts. it's chilly but not cold, temps hovering around 50º, no wind. a cloud ceiling hangs low and steely grey but gentle - the storm it holds is not today's.

i put on my new pink princess mittens, my old swatch sweatshirt, my new adidas pants, my old new balance trainers, and go outside into this weather that is my favorite, my precious. this weather that i cherish, that i wait all year for. if weather were children, this is the one i would spoil.

crossing the neighbor's yard feels a bit of a trespass and i think about when we were kids and we didn't know about boundary lines.

devoid of actual puddles, the blacktop is a patchwork of wet + dry, light + dark, its slumping shoulders sloppy with mud from last night's thunderstorm. the run-off from that storm gurgles in the culvert. cold-worn squirrels move slowly among the tall trees and occassional thickets of this older neighborhood.

i wave at folks who are inside cars as they pass and i smell woodsmoke caused by folks who are inside houses playing with fireplaces. people around here don't really use wood to heat their houses. college kids on holiday have caused driveway overflow. parked in the yards and streets, old jeeps and hand-me-down camrys sport new stickers that proclaim future alma maters, recently-pledged greek affiliations, authorization to Park On Campus.

the world is muffled and distant. i could walk for miles and miles and miles.

and miles.