I woke up to the brisk bite of snow on a late summer morning
I could see the cold breath of long gone winter fog up the window
and the leafless pine scrape hopefully
at the threshold of my past.
As the day wore on
the ghosts of the present visited me
as fleeting visions of a bridge
that the wind teased out of the surface of a shy, yet clearly aroused lake.
The parallel universe,
whose laws seem natural only to me,
speaks to me in faux nonchalance
knowing that one of these days
I'll follow his voice
and take that step into the slipstream.
For now, I sit up this night
waiting for the seductress future
to steal up on me.