I watch the rain fall on the white birches and the pine trees, ragged and barely clothed.  I wonder if they are dressed so poorly for the endless cars, the rapid reduction of oxygen, or the lack of water.  The reservoir is so dry its edges are mud, and its tumbling brooks are a ragged scar in a dry bed.  I slow down, as the thermometer reads 43, 41, 39, 36, 34.  I do not want to pass the salt truck, which like the deer are smaller up here.  I stopped for bagels on my way to work, and the car smells like fresh baked bread.  Do you want anything from civilization?  I ask, snickering, because I know full well where she is is civilization and where I live has gone beyond civilization into sheer madness.  My phone rings, yes, I shout, thinking the speaker is a dullard, because it never understands me.  Hi Honey, Drive safely okay?  Thank you.  I just wanted to tell you I love you!  I love you too.  I say in a goofy voice.  Get a deer for Godsake this is your last chance this season.  

I write warm by the fire, tea in hand.  

Someday, I will live here, and make art here.  For days.  

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