Lakeshores are so lonely during the winter and in turn make me lonely.
The light almond sand is still covered with the peace sign spokes of gulls’ feet.
The waves and tide are slower and groggy. Everything takes on a grayish tint and the cold air soaks through cotton layers, socks over socks, and deep into the skeleton. Bones take on a new meaning in the winter. They appear white but compared to snow they are filthy from their responsibilities to the living. They become ***** from living. Everything sounds different here. Voices are muffled. Words mix in with the push of water and become deconstructed into just noise. Speech becomes something of tone and inflection. Speech becomes human birdcalls. The sky is the same grayness as the water and there is always wind. Moving air pushes snowflakes into my dark eyes and black hair. It’s almost as if they are fighting to push me back. Creature of heat and light and breath. You do not belong here.