- Dalton Marzigliano
Reflections in ice, clouded by flurries
as my coat shifts in the storm.
The street is white, barren, a holiday dream.
It’s left uncelebrated by night time walkers who no longer make an appearance.
This wonderland of snowflakes and frozen breaths is mine alone.
Who else would willingly journey into the blizzard?
Solitude in the snow makes for better reflections anyway.
I’d say I’m venturing out to look at the night sky
but it hasn’t dazzled my eyes in months.
With summer stars out of sight, winter walks bring out the harshest truths.