Benign

walking with myself.  happy in my own mind, separated from me, looking down in disbelief.
The smell of autumn mixed with the sounds of the city bring me back to earth
with the sun dropping lazily to the skyline, earlier every day, pushing toward winter.
I feel myself slipping into old routines of movies and books waiting for spring's relief.

Mornings are the worst.  Cold frost skipping playfully around the rim of my glass
reminding me of how long the sun has been absent as it dances the planets girth.
When it does finally crests, the rays feel helpless and its warmth breaks and splinters.
Gray white and black dominate the color palate like a dark omen that will pass.