December 31, as Rain Turns into Snow

A cat sits on a chair and hovers over me as I lie in bed. It’s December 31st as a soft rain falls. As I get up I ask myself if this is an ending or beginning. I’ve been back in town full-time for five years but embrace memories of highways travelled throughout the Midwest when I worked for road construction crews. Now I’m left with my poems. Bare limbs in the yard next door wave and dance in the wind beneath the cover of grey skies. The cat brushes against me and mews and I know it wants to be fed. I take it downstairs and fill a dish on the floor. It eats in the kitchen while I call my older cousin and we peer into our younger lives. When asked I said if given the chance I say I’d live my life again. Outside the window rain has turned to snow and the dormant yard bears the change of weather.