He tilts his head upward
Footfalls slapping against icy pavement and cracked concrete
His eyes open against the weight of an empty sky
That pulls at branches bare, rattling without the clap of leaves
The cold cuts sharply through the clouds
Through his jacket and through his bones
Through the very sun itself
Slinking behind gliding gossamer
He drops his head
Footfalls silent beneath icy memories and cracked thoughts
Eyes closed against the weight of an empty sky
That pulls at branches bare, dancing without the clap of leaves
He listens
© Mike Yost
[ hidden void photography ] 