Day 943, January 11, 2023
A cold quiet evening,
the dog is thirsty for companionship
as I build the fire,
release the cat from the bedroom,
eat a handful of wasabi almonds,
pour myself a glass of juice.
I can feel the emptiness in my fingers and my toes,
the chill never quite leaving since this morning
when I stepped out of my robe and slippers
onto the stone tile of the bathroom floor.
I remember walking across a dew dappled lawn in summer,
before even the moose were stirring
and my feet were soaked through.
I had to wring out my socks and hang them up to dry
like a pauper’s Christmas.
My wife hasn’t left me because the marzipan is still on the coffee table
and the dog.
I might close my eyes.