Looking forward

I stand in the still cold
with a slight flavor
of a smirk
on my mouth
as the smoke rises from my nostrils
mixing with the steam
of my breath.

I lean slightly back
as I listen to the cracking
and popping
of the ice
on the sidewalk.

One of only four sounds
on this almost silent night.

The furnace exhaust
around the side
of the house exhaling
steadily
against the cold.

The train in the distance
hauling its load and
inserting a horn
into the dreams
of the sleeping
for miles around.

My breath
from beneath
my hood
persistently reminding me
that I am still
alive.

Five
if you count
the noise
inside my brain.

The ever present din.

Almost silent.

Almost quiet.

Almost is often
good enough.

I can't wait for June.