It is a brown morning turned white.

I wondered if the muddy gray would endure
and was burdened promptly with bellowing blizzard.

Well, all right. Today will be white, then.
Today will be white.

I will ponder the idea of going,
and where.

I will know the eyes of those who drank the murky morn

-my breakfast table brothers
and silvery spoon sisters,
stirring,
breathing inside houses-

and those who woke instead to shards of light

-white slipper strangers
idling above staircases,
slowly descending,
feathery,
stubborn behind the day-

I will recognize even those who unfurled into stillness

hours later
blissful children pushing toes and fingers,
easing into the right place
next to sibling and syrup, already present.

I will forget my love
and try to lift myself;
but, falling ever faster
into the bleach waters
the white day will take me.