The Unwinding

A woman's muted laugh, a male voice, drunken, loud, uncaring of the time of night. "Shhh, shhhhhh!" "What, it's early yet, not sleeping time." Away in the distance a dog barks, a lone bike roars, a truck rumbles, a window pulls shut. The dog on the couch sighs in its sleep, on the bedside table tick tick tick tock. Day unravels, dissolves quietly in the dark.

Sweet January

                                                 

Sweet January, I miss your crisp cold touch, your warm sunrises, your threadbare trees, and lazy stretches of endless clear blue skies.

February arrives, still cold, still wintry but soon it will thaw out to the smothering warmth of slithering sweat that will drown me. Or just about.