Winter Night Walking
by Dave Dussault
I wonder why I never take the bus
As I am walking cold on an early winter evening
To visit you so far away.
The orange buzz of the streetlights
Destroys the clearness of the moonlit ebony sky.
The dead of frozen winter
The cold-numbing of my nose and ears
My skin standing up tightly in the wind
As I proceed unconsciously, dreaming of warmth
So far away in my frustration.
The smell of hickory smoke meets my nose
And I deeply breathe it in
Then exhale a cloud of purest white.
I now draw a winter in deep through my mouth
The freezing air ices over my throat like peppermints
And in between the buzz of the orange streetlights
Is Orion in stellar beauty.
And when I reach your porch light
And you meet my shivering body at the door
You wonder why I never take the bus.