Kate Abbot, “Lost in the World”

When the days grow short
And the trees’ bones are bared to the world
The sunrise is a brittle splash of pink against blue sky.
And those who explore, wrapped against the chill
May see squirrels cavort along a fence or a fox dart across the field.
I envy the creatures’ deliberate movements, secure in their purpose.
For I am like the snowflake, dazzling in my uniqueness yet subsumed in an instant into the blanket of white, or melting on an eyelash.
The cardinals, brilliant slashes of crimson in the trees, the wild turkey prancing in the underbrush and the woodpeckers making their staccato music high above, none will notice me gliding by, a shadow shortened in the noonday sun.
And dusk comes early, the sky once again glows, now yellow and deep pink behind the mountains.
And with the deepening dusk and the coming stars and sliver of moon, those whose day has passed make their way into the evening refuge and those who know the night emerge to inhabit the darkness.
I envy them their knowing, their place of being.
For I am like the ice on the pond, not knowing what weight I might bear, helpless in the face of sun and heat and the flame.




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