Thursday, February 21, 2008



Another winter morning
I'm expecting your call
I stand close to the window and watch
my breath form a rose on the glass
I scratch your name on it
then wipe it away with my sleeve
listening for your tires
to crunch through the ice on the drive
I notice how snow glistens the pine boughs
that there's no wind at all
It's too cold for my walk
Nothing dares disturb this stillness
I know you aren't coming
I press my cheek to the window
The telephone rings
My breath forms a rose on the glass

-- Dan Gerber

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