This poem was recently revised, and due to formatting problems has been re-posted out of chronological order.

Walking Home on a Cold Winter Evening

Feb 11 2008

It’s high pressure cold;

sky clear

all the way out to the ozone.

In thin night air

where the molecules have slowed

close to absolute zero.

A transparent dome

where the stars are sharp as lasers.

I walk

muffled, layered

soft snow underfoot,

through a city of houses like ships at sea

all leaning into the breeze.

Their chimneys huff-out smoke,

trailing away

as if steaming into headwinds.

And it might just as well be mid-Atlantic,

becalmed in oceanic dark.

Where great waves swell, but cannot break;

long unstoppable rollers

rocking us in place.

A small city on a tiny planet

forging through the ocean of ether

that holds the universe up.

So close

I could reach-up and touch

the hard black edge of space.