forecast

Last night was hard
there was no moon to speak of
and the room was dark enough
to hide crying, only one soft
sound gave you away

and when I woke this
morning the sun was on
fire red and drippy like it
had been up all night
crying for us

the city billowed a smoke
made more ominous with
the cold, proof that progress
won't stop for us

the car still frosted over
and in my hurry to leave for
a job that would not wait
I neglected to clear the
windshield

drove the morning streets
peering through a slit in
the frost hoping not to hit
anything- the sun on fire
glaring in the rear view

we have failed in our
honest attempts to
remain the same. We are
no exception to the rule
that everything changes;

nothing will hold still
for us.

And now it is winter, the

windshield too frosty to

show what is ahead of me

as I drive away -- from you

still in a dream.