An old, broken moon hangs low in the early morning sky as I scrape the ice crystals off the car. This incessant round of things rides me: getting up early to go to work, fighting below zero weather, cooking, cleaning, worrying, more work. . .when and where is there time to enjoy, to read, to write, to listen, to gather the world into my dreams like a lost lover? They tell you that you must save a part of the day all to yourself--a private time unencumbered with obligations. Here it is, now, this unencumbered time, scraping off these ice crystals shattered by an old moon, accompanied by the stars that are so far away.
late for work the snow from my car making a beautiful trail