CALL ME BELOVED

the cold is the herald of january this year,
seeping in through the windowpanes and
the constant passenger whenever I’m in the
car, chilling my hands numb as my fingers
tighten around the icy steering wheel.

I pass the time during the morning by reading,
glancing out the windows, searching for sun
that will soon pour in the windows and
stretch out over the city – the familiar
downtown shopping district of my town
lit up and elucidated.

I watch as people file in and out
of the train station, idly picking
at facets of their lives by what they carry,
briefcases and bookbags hint at stories
I don’t yet have the wherewithal to capture.

yet my eyes blink steadily, lazily
saving glimpses as they close
like a camera shutter – I wait for the sun
and think of you, I pray for warmth
and offer poems.