Mind Prints

Beyond the cabin walls a shimmering molt of starlight brushes brilliance over my black drenched car. Snowflakes fall disappear then appear to float up on weightless whisps breathed out from inky cisterns. A chill window reflects, it takes my picture through a fisheye lens. Behind me, a log fire cracks and chirps. The room chirrs warmly like a fiddle in a ghost camp. I turn to look at where I live see only yesterday still unpacking. Something in the timbers creaks through listening ears, a softy shuffling rumor trails hollowly like whispers in an empty clock, but its just the wood speaking its mind. I think about future nights here in the arboreal twilight locked in by the weather with only the tepid churn of daydreams providing narrowing paths for my soul-searching.