Bird in a long Winter (I)

Good morning,

Winter has finally settled in my part of the world (if I may be so bold as to claim it). Today my city felt like one of those dewy, misty mornings of London I’ve only read about in books.

A dense, quiet fog wafts through the air and the world below my balcony seems to be in a standstill.

I can’t tell you the details of the world below because my eyes are forever fixated towards the sky. 

The sky from my balcony appears to be the lightest shade of blue. Like today the sky is too tired to gleam. Too exhausted to shine. And the sun, no sign of it. 

Before my mind plays its tricks and I’m reminded of the enormity of this world I step inside and try to warm my freezing feet; a quandary I face every December.

Failing to do so, I take a deep breath and open my laptop, typing solemnly and ready to tame another, jaded day. 

 

 

Love always,
Your blogger. 

Plane watcher

New cities are hard to feel at home in
every face a stranger,
every room cold
devoid of the comforting sense of familiarity. 

that’s why I find myself perched in balconies
of hotels, studios or polished penthouses
hunched over railings,
scooping a mug of strange tea.

eyes glued towards the vast expanse 
of a foggy night sky
traffic in the backdrop a distant hum,
conversations facile
while my eyes face the universe
with hope

When a plane snails its way under the moon
red lights twinkling at me, teasing.
I blink and sigh
The birds have left this city
Look,
I am now a plane watcher.