The wind touched my face,
With brisk fingertips it stroked the integument.
I shook with the chill of a starry night
Stuck in-between, the way seasons often do.
Spring tugging and summer pulling to no avail.
I felt it- half-frozen ice cube water
Within my veins, fluid enough to circulate
The chill evenly throughout my limbs,
To fight off any sensation of fraternity
That might come with the memory
Of another in human form or even a dog
That might have communicated by presence
A care or inclination to mutual necessity.
I am alone within the still of a night so big
That I shiver and telepathically give notice
Only to the stars beyond, and not another soul
Intercepts, knows of the journey or cares. No one.
There is an inexplicable beauty here, but wasted.
The rising spiral of a Hail Mary
Without a soul downfield.