Housebound kittens watch a flurry of white;
flower boxes frosting under a patch of blue sky.
Packed icicles adorn the roof, two of them;
like twin swords they glisten and melt into the sun’s victory.
The warmth of black kittens contrast the icy white,
beyond my window pane, and the tire tracks of ambition.
There is a stillness in snow, winter gray makes me stay;
reflect on time slowing or moving forward, a reminder, a gift.
Snow melting, and our kittens chase their tails
when everything could be wiped clean as a chalkboard.
He caresses dishes with soap and water, while I coax
the existence of cats from a hardwood surface; these acts of living.
Yesterday’s interview and today’s chipped nail polish;
roads clear and winter moves in with the sun behind it.
I rise first and devour words for breakfast;
my hands are utensils, the cold outside – an instrument.
A meal prepared, a table christened, and friends brought
to warm cups of conversation; a growing circle.
The overcast sky holds in warmth, our hands held
under blankets; we dream of each other under a thick, white blanket.
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