I have walked this path

many times before.

In spring before the trees leafed,

in summer

when shadows and fireflies filled the air,

in fall when the smell of leaves turning lingered on my sweater long after.

in winter, once again.

a january night

steeped in darkness.

I have felt alone before but this feeling seems different.

Yet the trees

though they sleep in their drowsy charcoaled  outlines


in their own shadows across the cold cement

and the stars

blinking in a vast  sky of onyx,

surround me.

I am alone yet

a part of this sleepy



In a single breath

I become

this landscape. – J. Hamilton