I stood fresh in February sun. I hung my hands
on the collar of my shirt and exposed my collar
bones. I remembered a voice, my mother's? with
wisdom not her own, expose your arms, as much
skin as possible. I wished I had time or space
to be out running. I tried to breathe deep
but couldn't make myself feel heavy
or full of substance. I sank my slippers
in the snow and stood suspended by
my collar bones. I heard the shifting of
the frozen frame of the house. The
unintelligible talk of birds, birds beyond
sight. I heard the cars pass through
bridge street. Did one turn my way?
I open my eyes, the cloud covers the sun.
An eagle, the white tail, catches my gaze,
enters my sight, and takes over the sky,
disappearing in chimney smoke,
behind the sun.