The trees are the only ones keeping fit
on this windy, early March afternoon.
Bending, and reaching with black skeleton hands
to the passing drivers, hurrying by underneath.
I imagine how cold & hard the parking lot pavement is
I picture myself falling on it, my cheek hitting hard.
I wonder when I will next take a fall like that,
and exactly how much time I spend, thinking about falling.
The hard piles of snow lining the streets
have lost their charm at least two months ago.
And we’re all patiently waiting for their gracious exit
via mid-May’s warming rainstorms.
Until then we’re pushing through the grey
wearing red scarves and drinking red wine.
Being indoors with friends, laughing by the heater
and trying not to fall.