Mikey’s Wild Night

Mikey was so obsessed with going outside
that he snuck out into the night
when the door was cracked
and no one was watching. 
Poor little old guy got stuck outside,
pacing back and forth in the newly
fallen snow on the porch.
His meows woke up the sleeping dog upstairs
but the dog didn't act urgent enough to alert
his humans that his friend was outside.
I imagine Mikey befriending mice and
huddling under the porch for warmth,
wondering when someone would notice
he was missing, regretting sneaking out
when no one was watching.
In the morning, he was found and cuddled
profusely by his humans.
Days after his wild night,
he got an eye infection and mopped around,
unlike his usual self, trying to fight off
one of the worst nights he's ever had.


Last year at this time, uncertainty lingered heavy.
There were too many unknowns, with people getting sick

and many dying, no one knew what was going on.
Wearing masks was a figment of an idea, nowhere

near mandatory, people were stuck in their homes,
too stressed to pick up their dog's poop on their walks,

losing their jobs or adjusting to working from home,
downloading an application called Zoom.

A year later, people are getting vaccinated.
COVID cases are still high, but there's hope.

Masks have become common place in most places
in the country, adjustments are being made

to allow for a semblency of normalcy
to return, sports have crowds socially

distanced, a word that has allowed
people to move safely in public spaces

for the last year. I got my first shot
on Saturday. Was I anxious? Absolutely.

Was it what I was worried about? Not at all.
It was a seemless process and while I felt

some mild effects aftwards, it wasn't
terrible. It will allow me to move about

life with some reassurance of safety.
I will be careful and still wear a mask.

Last year at this time, I was the 
definition of anxious and panic.

This year, I have hope.
Hope for a brighter future.


Night Sounds

The train blares
its horn as
it travels by.
I hear it
the night.

The pipes screech
when I turn off
the water.

Chocolate bubbles
on the stove.

The container pops
when I secure the top.

The dishwasher
at the
of its cycle.

The pages of
a library
book rustle
as I begin
a new story.

I sneeze loudly
in a quiet room.

Loop Around The Sun

I watched a white plane
loop around the sun,
cross the crescent moon
one sunny afternoon.
The fallen snow
from days before
caught my attention.
I looked away then
looked back only to
see it had vanished,
fading into the soft
blue sky slowly then
all at once.
It looped back time
and time again,
I tried my best
to watch it,
only to have it
disappear in a

Observations During A Blizzard

The dog burrows himself into the snow.
This is his definition of heaven,
loving every second of creating
new paths in the backyard
that will melt by the weekend.

A robin moves from
one unstable branch
to the next,
trying to withstand
the 45 mph winds.

Ice gets blown
on to the window,
creating unique patterns
and making it
impossible to see outside.

A car pulls a snowboarder
down the unplowed street,
the snowboarder hits a bump
in the road and face-plants.

Snow drifts by the fence,
creating a mountain
almost as tall as
the dormant bush
in the backyard.

People on Facebook
ask for a ride
to the airport tomorrow,
people respond with,
"have you looked outside?"
Robin in the wind.
Funky ice pattern on the window.
Stuck to the screen,

Spring is Right Around the Corner

Yesterday, I went for a walk.
I wore shorts.
There was a change in the air.
Spring is right around the corner.
Warm weather is here!

I walked for almost an hour.
I took my time appreciating nature 
and the air in my lungs.
Last week, I had hurt the muscles
in-between my ribs while walking
up a dirt hill. 

After a few days of walking slow,
shallow breaths, and
lingering exhaustion,
I feel less on edge.
My lungs are in-tact,
my body is doing what
it's supposed to do.

Spring is a time of hope,
rebirth, and renewal.
I can breathe in warm air
better than I can in cold.
There's space for my body
to heal without the sharpness
of ice cold air
making it difficult
to breathe.

Deep Breathing

I have found that if I begin my day
in a meditative state,
I'm more likely to have a better day
than if I just get up and go.
I spend about ten minutes or so
breathing in through my nose
and out through my mouth
with a panda eye pillow
over my eyes.
I check in with myself,
how did I sleep?
how am I feeling?
how's my anxiety?
I visualize a mountain,
a lake, or nothing at all.
It depends on my mood
and how active my mind is.
I try to spend the first hour
of my day alone with my thoughts,
leaving my phone on my nightstand.
Somedays I'm more successful than others.
I'm learning not to judge myself.
I'm trying to be compassionate.
To be as stable as a mountain
in the midst of anxiety. 

Animal Puzzle

1,000 mismatched pieces
scattered in several piles.
I try my best to organize them,
connecting patterns and
colors into separate sections.
It takes a lot of time
and many podcast episodes
to become less confused
about what's in front of me.
The border comes together in a few days.
From there, with much trial and error,
I form a zebra, flamingo,
tiger, and hedgehog.
A week in, I realize
I have some of the border mixed up.
I detach the tree and focus on
working from the bottom up.
Slowly but surely the giraffe
is coming into view.
The tiger is halfway there, 
the cheetah is missing two pieces.
My organized piles intersect
the further I get.


Ice cold air,
sliding doors frozen shut,
inhales that burn your lungs,
shivers that last for days.
Single digit temperatures
transition into the negatives
during the night
last until morning.
It's too cold,
too too cold.
Too cold to do
anything outside.
The day's activities
consist of sitting
by the fire,
hiding under blankets,
working on puzzles,
drinking hot tea,
and wearing fuzz socks
to protect my toes
from the kitchen floor.
The snowfall over night
will likely remain in place
for the foreseeable future
due to the cold air
and lack of sun
when it hits 
its peak at noon.