Tick Tock





Morning that is supposed to be full of snow, but nothing yet. Friends in Copiague have snow, but not here. I am not complaining as I have errands to do in my newly returned and already breaking down car. Blue morning and need to go to the doctor today. Out of meds. Listening to Sinatra which is making me bluer. Reminds me of dancing with Sonny at my wedding. Oh lord, hard to keep it together today, which I am only admitting because I know there's not much of a chance anyone will read this. Like writing on the wind.

Miss my dad so much. And my mom. Tired. Bone bone tired. And teary. Gonna get myself to the doctor before I get worse...damn.

Depression in Winter

There comes a little space between the south
side of a boulder
and the snow that fills the woods around it.
Sun heats the stone, reveals
a crescent of bare ground: brown ferns,
and tufts of needles like red hair,
acorns, a patch of moss, bright green....

I sank with every step up to my knees,
throwing myself forward with a violence
of effort, greedy for unhappiness--
until by accident I found the stone,
with its secret porch of heat and light,
where something small could luxuriate, then
turned back down my path, chastened and calm.

Jane Kenyon