A wan winter’s afternoon.
She walks along the sidewalk,
Hard and cold,
As frozen as despair.

Everyday
She trudges on,
Dogged,
Ruminating,
Tripping like a bad habit
On cracked slabs
Raised by tree roots.

One day
The sun comes out,
The snow recedes a bit,
As if the patterns were clouds
Upon the dark, wet sidewalk.

Here, a boy
Telling a story
To a younger sister.

There, a butterfly,
Shaded droplets
Imprinted on
Ice wings.

Here a star,
Brilliant
On the concrete sky.
Or is the star fixed?
A beginning, an ending,
A beginning again.

The bitter wind shudders.
Snow falls that night.
The images of clouds on the sidewalk
Now hidden,
Sing songs to her
As she serenely sleeps.

She dreams
Her feet are hands
That gently touch
The images.
The clouds begin to glide,
Feathery ships
Departing sidewalk
For unfathomable winter sky.

She follows them.

Does not ask, “Where?”
Does not ask “Why?”