The snow carpets everything.

And I can't see.
It's so bright.

The white permeates existence and shines oh so brilliantly.
Blotched here and there with the thrown up refuse of passing cars.
***** grey stains on the blinding incandescent light.

My eyes hurt.

As I see the silhouette of a magpie.
Chasing away a mangy old fox who won't survive the winter.
And  I'm always tired.
Walking on.
This slippery ice.

I always catch myself.

Before I fall.

But,
My scarf is falling down.
The wind bites my legs.
I am unfortunately always unorganized and unprepared.

But.
In my mind.

I'm striking a pose with an idealized fantasy image of myself 23 years ago.
So I look in the mirror

and slip.

Still an old man.
Still walking.
Still broke.

And still unable to see.
Directly into the sun.