Long Walk

Snow falls in silence.

A thin, fresh layer settles on the ground.

There is almost no one on the streets tonight,

so the snow spreads evenly across the world,

untouched, undisturbed.

Behind me, there should be a trail of footprints,

I suppose,

But ahead of me lies a world made new.

Perhaps this is the meaning of snow—

to restart the world,

something summer rain, spring grass,

and autumn leaves can never quite do.

Now and then a passing car slices a long stroke,

a drifting curve,

light and dark,

its own quiet patterns.

I walk with music in my ears

and pretending I’m a character moving through a movie scene.

I miss him—

the him I imagine,

the him I do not know.

Surely he must be like me,

loving a night like this,

loving a long walk like this,

in the quiet snow.

I guess.