Ahhh how nice.

I want to know what happened.

I count your rings.

You can’t hide much,

Broken like this.

Not in these pictures:

The sound of icy rain clicking on the unfallen leaves

The slipperiness of the paths

The perfect loneliness of the woods on such a stormy day

How much I needed it

Once, once upon a time

The consolations of imagination are not imaginary consolations.

— Maria Tatar

In older dreams, I flew.

Now, I walk over snow

the way you used to walk on water,

clinging to the sound of my breath.

Winter came

and never left.