The upward dive of otter’s head cracks ice across a pond.
A freeze spreads over snowless Earth,
Thin, like Christmas cards,
Snapped before the Atlantic Ocean,
All aided by an airline.
Near Toledo, December’s sun paints an insect foggy.
They are suspended in air,
Molding warm breezes with their tired wings.
Across farmland, mist haunts above hay bales.
Plastic snowmen rolled by the sweatshop
Dot the muddy yards of Erie’s coast.
In the distance, a Greyhound roars.
Outside of Grandmother’s apartment,
Plastic bags struggle on an oak branch
Shredding into tinsel.
They flap in the breeze, rustling, Everblue.
We slurp steaming cups of tea,
Hers held by zagging fingers.
Grandmother nears a century of seasons,
Recalls winter when it came and stayed.
Leaving New Year’s Eve on North Francisco,
Champagne raincoats dilute by drizzle.
The ball dropped one hour ago,
Fullerton’s concrete still shimmering.
She breaks from thrifted high heels,
Phantoms gripping our shoulders
In four degrees Celsius.
Otter swims into a crowd of reeds,
The sun shoving water
Above the banks of the pond.