The snow comes just when they said it would, decorating the new year with
moisture that doesn't quite bury us, the chill air through which I swim,
recalling those less painful days when these incidents did not foreworn us of
climate disaster, my footsteps leaving a trail behind me across sidewalks of a
city I visit, yet no longer live, covered in white as I walk, feeling again as
I did as a kid, bundled up, almost immune, when I make my way to this place or
that, life never being what we predicted, just what occurs, and I still feel
the past clinging to me, even when the trail I leave fills in, the who we are
matters less than what might have been, winter finally greeting us with the
foreshadow of a spring to come if not tomorrow then some day soon
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