Thursday, January 27, 2011

There's frozen air and

The porches out here are dark.
One by one we scan the street lamp lit
street as we sit on the steps, drinking for warmth .
It's nine at night, and a hush
would seem loud here. As one frozen leaf
gets blown off course, in to the street,
the world could come off it's axis
and the only sound left here
would be, "goodnight."