He’s been vacant of late, lost somewhere inside a hundred clicks while the world snows outside around him. Inside his mind as he stands on the sidewalk, the slight, a warm current in the thin air leaves him as the departure cuts a shadow through the falling snow. Companions, just street lights, and earth tainted snow, can isolation in an urban hive feel as cold. To walk, sit, or stand, time keeps escaping, putting distance between each contours’ change beneath his feet. A stranger under the fallen shadows.
Take another step, where the rain falls, ice grows slow to disappear while Spring wakes. To pass time in a cold night until day, the silent wayfarer.