one day, every day...

The chill spreads, heavy, unseen, surfacing to the touch. Reaching, the faintest contact, lingering there. Here. Soft light settled on newly native grasses. Mid June plagued be morning frost. A shift of leaves, to better view the coming sun. We are all dying for warmth, hungry for affections. How they loose themselves in the faintest breeze in hopes of being heard, of being found, of being sought after in the dark. Their sorrow song for comfort, a whisper in foreign tongue, dawn approaches.


She walks, left shoulder heavy, down the steps of the stoop. She fumbles through her red bag, overturning items to obtain a less obscured view. A wallet, she searches for a planner size billfold. In the distance a blue and green bus is slowing. In an chorus of grinding metal it stops, deflating noisily, doors opening- the driver steps out. In his black jacket, embroidered to match the exterior of the bus, no fumbling- reaches into his pocket and he lights a cigarette. Wallet retrieved, small card in hand she adjusts the weight of her shoulder bag and walks swiftly, knees tight with tension, chin high, her face slightly turned. She is looking for something, from her expression it can be seen that although what she searches for is not in sight, the faintest traces are passing, vaguely, inside her mind.