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.
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