725. MY COMFORT

MY COMFORT
(Life Without Limits)
A community of holidays wrapped in
nothing special - ice rolling off a cliff
along a distant roadway, two signs - without
meaning - spinning wildly in the wind, that
Winter hare, momentarily stunned, just staring
out. My silence is a comfort too - white
wires of an old telephone line, poles and brackets
now all white, covered by new-fallen snow.
Community gardens inside glass globes.
Alligator sewers 'midst a mishmash of time.
Everywhere I turn to look, there is, (it
seems), something 'other' beckoning.
I am outside the picture yet
within the frame.
-
Steamed-over windows dripping with dew,
an enormous shelf, bought in New London,
and now suffering in an early Spring.
I live within the anomalies,
if I live at all.