the place you thought you knew
Snow isn’t far behind. I can tell by the stillness in the air,
silence threading through bare trees. Months ago, I would have said
winter wasn’t for me, all these years on the mild California coast
and the thought of this kind of chill enough to send me packing.
But the fear of cold isn’t the same as cold itself, which - I see now -
has shades of warmth to it, pockets to slide into, a comfort
possible only through proximity. Now it’s hard to imagine much else,
and I see all the ways I’ve fooled myself with dread.
Geography is an illusion, and weather mutable as dough.
The map inside will tell you everything you need to know.