I wake for you...

The world is frozen again. The wind has fled my shore; it towed in heavy, bloody fog as a wake. Frost litters the ground, almost thick enough to look like snow. It has extracted all color from the picture outside the tall windows that keep me in and it out. There is white, and grey, and black, and that is all... mostly grey. Heavy mist hemming in the mountains, the street below, turning all the trees into ghosts and all the rest of the city into a bad, distant dream.

I fear for it. He is out there, in it, sequestered in the city... sleeping, perhaps dreamless, perhaps fitfully. I have this irrational concern that it will all dissapear, and be vanquished by this dull silver miasma. For gods sake, I won't let this kind of monster take him from me.

The world is frozen again, as it should be though lacking snow to incubate the ground... It does nothing, however, to calm my spirit. There is still something out there, in it... running. Hunted. Animal. Fear. Is that was was knocking at the side wall of my home last night, chasing me to bed in a flurry of misplaced heartbeats? Was that why I couldn't tarry even long enough to plug in my car and offer it's poor engine protection from the frost I knew was coming? (cold hands scraping windows hell, more like it.)

Something in our skies... something in our skies... something in our blood... something in our skies...

I take off into the haze to work and function in a real world, a conservative world of science and metal and blood. And then, to fly off and cover him in my wings... and then a night of comparative revelry. Hopefully the peer pressure of other people's joy will coerce my spirit to lightheartedness... and the artificial scare of late-evening horror films will induce some resilience to the nameless, fluttering fear that haunts my bones. (they hurt, by the way. And no... Chiropractor does not sound like the latin word for Bat.)

But it is time to go... and I must go. What what we thought, and silenced, none shall know. [Aiken]