My fingers are pink and numb, my nose tulipy red: I’ve just come back from prancing around in the snow, making snow angels, kicking up powdery light snowdust. Our boots sunk three inches deep. Light mound of snow layered the field, coated every surface, nook and crevice like frosting (Ah, Frosty!)
The snow was too fine for snowmen or snowballs, so we resorted to dragging our boots through the snow, windmilling bodies into snow angels, tossing handfuls of snow. “Snow, please,” I’d say, since I’d forgotten to wear mittens. Then a sprinkle-shower of snow would scatter over our heads.
Photographed this about three years ago. I miss New York and all its lights; I’ve been itching to visit for the past year or so. In my general consumption of rom-com movies–always based in NYC (of course) and around Christmas (yes), Christmas lights, in particular, have become somewhat of a myth.
So I’m going back soon–for the sixth time!–this time to see the Christmas lights!
Psychedelic Poise, a watercolor portrait time-lapse
when the lights gazed down
for our attention and petals fell
rain-streaked you tied a ribbon around my
waist before we sank in a sea of swimming bodies
streaks of sunrise flushed
in our cheeks
we drive home
bound with the windows
down carrying bags of tea that smell like
Christmas, flecked with
ginger, decked in lights
pass by billboards for
fidget spinners &
a bridge that reminds me of beyond two
souls & a school with the sign that reads “meet the Teachers night”
lo que sera, sera means what will be
will be, fate that’s putty in the
hands of what we can’t see
Weather’s been doing its usual tango-merengue between hot and cold.
I tell myself that time goes by faster around this time of year, end of October. November zips by, solid block of cold, fades around the middle. December’s usually quick, submerged in work, two weeks of wrapping things up in cold tired bows of maybe-nostalgia.
Then the feeling of surprised triumph that things are done, that it’s been yet another half of a half (of a half of half) that’s passed.