A city’s first New Year’s morning is mine.

I run through the empty woods,

while everybody’s still asleep.

No noise.

No voices.

Just my footsteps,

my breath,

and a quiet sense of fulfillment.

It was a simple joke,

a ripple of irony,

but

it touched a sacred ground

for her.

She felt it like a storm

and that was the end of us.

The universe could surprise me by turning into uni-verses, one unique, endless poem.

Mourning doves 🕊️ 

Sing their pleasant song

Fly over and  bequeath my nostalgia

reassurance from my cracked open window

Be still

They tell me

It’s going to be alright