Trail Marker

Trail Marker

outside my speckled window,
trees wave bony arms.
inside hands flutter like leaves.
cold feet, cold toes, cold nose,
another day in cold storage. 
last week, last conversation,
buried in frozen corners.

outside my speckled window,
masked marauders stomp
through dead flower beds, 
among stones from streams, 
forest, foothills shared
on warm days in June
with a boy in a blue shirt.

outside my speckled window,
a blackbird flies away, but
a girl lingers, crouches,
places stone on stone.
her face fades in the fog.
yet her tower stands,
solid proof of my yesterdays.

Published in The Closed Eye Open “Maya’s Micros” Batch 32, March 12, 2022