Nothing new happened today
unless you count
the fragrance of the air
reminding child you of the day
you knew snow
would not return again soon
so you leave the windows open
even as the clouds
turn a dark brighter shade of gray
and set the tea upon the window sill
as you walk the neighborhood
smiling at every face you meet
even though distance is kept
like a promised thing
a rose with fragrance not quite
as sweet as when you return
to count the minutes
until a new thing begins
like dinner or the difference
between strangers
greeting each other on the street
and never looking back at each
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Joshua Keiter 