Covered in winter clouds
light rain falls on the valley,
dripping from bare trees
to the hard skin of concrete.
I count prayers in tens,
using my fingers for a rosary
as I look out over the rooftops
to smoke rising among
shrouded evergreens.
I remember my mother
bearing the burden long ago
on the bluff above Spuyten Duyvil,
seeing her happiness
from the warmth
of a woolen blanket
and my father’s smile.
We’re still together
though with different faces,
having dropped a few skins
in the journey across time.
The river, the cobblestones,
the cold air of January
are with me now
as light rain falls
and daylight rises.
I come perfectly still
for just one moment
and in this pause
there is joy.

photograph by Rebecca Hynes
Reading of “Cold Air of January” with music by Coyote Oldman