Katrina Kaye

You are

a winter’s day,

the mist of breath as I
laugh in the cold,

the cracked footprints
fading in snow.

You are

a river trail,

the stretch of limbs from
cottonwoods that canopy the sky,

the bare branches that streak
shadows under the winter’s sun.

the soft brown earth of the path
which leads me from wild to home.

You are

velvet embrace,

the softest of caresses
against cheek and jawline,

a secret in my ear,
a kiss on temple.

A gentle hand stirring the
small of my back.

a sweet invitation to stay in your arms
and lingered in your constant gaze.

You are

a peacefulness I didn’t know
was possible.

a home I didn’t know
was needed,

a treasure I never dreamed
was deserved.

A masterpiece,

that magnificent and that simple.

“Masterpiece” is previously published in Saturday’s Sirens (2023).

Katrina Kaye

I know I have things to do today,
but I would rather sit and watch the snow.

It started last night – more of a wet sleet
but now, coming upon the morning, the flakes are big
and piling. There is no sky, just the thick white
clouds and inches of fluff are growing.

My husband has gone to work,
as I am sure many people have.

It is not the kind of snow that keeps us locked in our homes.
It is just snow. It will most likely be gone in a couple of hours.

Why would that stop the race to get to the end of the world?

but for me,
for today,
it does.

The wind pushes the powder from the trees.
The road may not be ice,
but it is wet and sleek.
No one will starve if the IHOP doesn’t open until noon.
A closed gas station just means you should be driving anyway.

We don’t get snow very often these days
much less the time to watch it accumulate,
and I know it will be gone as soon as those
clouds release the precious sun.

So let the world take a pause,
take a breath.
Let the kids sleep in,
let the stores stay closed,
let all the bullshit that makes up our to-do lists
and justifies our ability to have food and shelter,

let it wait.

Let it stop for a few hours,
after all, that’s all any of us are ever given.

A few hours on a Thursday morning to stay inside,
to stay warm and curled up,
and watch the world turn white
from the safety of a couch by the window.

Let the dog sleep on the couch,
turn off the television and just watch what nature still
has the magic to create.
The rest of the world will be there tomorrow,
both the good and the bad.

For now,
until the snow stops,
until the roads clear,
until the sky opens and the sun returns,
until then, just pause and watch.

Appreciate the bare lilac bushes,
the restlessness of the cat,
the passivity of the dog,
the glory of a snowy morning.

Acknowledge the gratitude of being able to watch from window,
the privilege of shelter, warmth.

I hope others can feel this too;
can take this moment and love it
without the worry of getting to work or fear of driving.

I hope the world can stop for everyone,
even if it’s just for a few hours on a snowy morning
in early November.