Learning the detail of the suburban winter
Zipped up steps start slow and stooped
The crime scene, deflated corpses of holiday saints on the lawn,
Waiting for a breath of hot air to revive them, early resurrection

Each squirrel runs a confused fast track
The local paperís attempt at survival
Creates plastic covered headline only obstacles
For the giants tails to avoid

Micro dogs complain and wag
Usually in non-matching pairs
Along the fence, upon the trampoline, over the hedgerow
Their sonic injection ends as I pass the property line

They warned that things could be more beautiful
And that my boat could also go adrift
The emotion of having yourself lay open
Just as serious as the metaphorical version

Bare trees creak and bend
The spread of the leafless branches look arterial
I look for blockages and heartbeats
And pull the fabric from my itching chest

Left or right, how long will I go,
The sidewalk ends, the alleys merge
The road closed for the new railway
The walk detoured, not ended, not now

The dreadful new homes of a branded renaissance
Dropped on the old neighborhoods like stage weights
The wager of a turning tide in three different kinds of krick
The shotgun shack seems homey and real

Riding a wave of gratitude and frustration
Still young and strong but knocked about
Learning to live with things in Godís time
As the impatience of mine got me here.

The cold air arouses, the sweat crosses my back
Like a superstitious athlete approaching the mound
I turn and return, the limited menu
Mastering the 20 minute mile.