over the snowy mountain peaks
a star is gliding through space
as i’m strolling, embracing the breeze
on saint anne’s frozen lake.

icicles have crept up on the trees,
all the living have run away.
sorrow lingers in the silent eve,
dimming prayers at winter’s gate.

the cold flurry of air penetrates the bone,
reeds wince with the chill.
a flock of birds pass by like ghosts,
their shapes trembling in fear.

oscillating wings carve the way.
as they fade away in the sky,
a new thought is born i can’t shake:
this is my home. i’ve arrived.

I laughed - not for likes,
but because the sky was kind
and the breeze felt honest.

I wore comfort,
not costume,
and danced without a soundtrack.

No mirrors.
No filters.
Just me,
at ease in my skin,
and joy
quiet as a secret,
loud as my heart.

Foam lines move outwards

From oars that pierce stillness

Spreading just to fade.

The shadow of the aloe plant
Is as still as the sunlight
That crawls along the wall.