the warm yellow light of late day sun through the trees on the ridge
new snow on least year’s sumac seed heads
bittersweet vines in white pines
the scrunch of boots in snow
a purple card, here on my desk, reminding me to pause
I am pausing
the smell of cinnamon from pumpkin muffins in the oven
and the quiet roar of my head, familiar, like a complex drum beat of whatabouts whatifs and maybes….