They left the car for fifty days; I left my house for months. She makes her cash all kinds of ways, but she ain’t settled once. Stay away long enough, they said, you forget what lonely means. It’s of another structure, built by a broke machine. If the chickadees are chiming in I’m sure they say the same. This head ain’t for equations, but it knows how to stay sane.

Teensy high-heel tracks space wide across the fresh snowfall. Perpendicular, inch long three pronged half steps show that someone took flight here. The first, a bounder determined; the second stepping aimlessly. Someone’s burning juniper again. The moonlight struggles through the covers still waiting their turn. School is delayed two hours tomorrow. I was slow to recollect from my last winter in Maine: the time is for shoveling. I don’t know if my road gets plowed, but I’m ready for some cold weather sweating. After that, my baby’s got brand new snow tires. It is my last week at SWOS until March, and I’m good with it. Delighted to go home and onto other adventures from there. Someone’s burning juniper again, here. I will also look forward to returning.