jim henson

Moving through the crisp cold 
I can see my breath.
The frozen air 
is hypnotic and 
oddly peaceful. 

As though gently warming, 
it belies the temperature
and creeping darkness. 
My senses awaken 
to the screaming quiet
and satisfying aloneness
of a winter afternoon.   

I wrote this poem to go with this week's theme of journey.