Fingertips

I’ve come untethered
Three days lost and out of sorts
Now the correction

Sitting on the train
The snow blows blinding outside
Heavy wet and sad

The Wailers’ singles in my ears
Provide the syncopation
Propelling the day

On the balcony
In yellow afternoon light
A thrush in the snow

Pink skies cede to blue
Melted snow transformed to ice
Anticipation

West, the dream maker bicycles
For all ages a unique mile
On fingertips

“I write all the things I need on the bottom
of my tennis shoes. I say, Let’s walk together.”

— Ada Limón / “Sharks in the Rivers”