treadmill

winters’ arrival has been confirmed. 

three female pine grosbeaks sang in the early morning from a spruce overlooking the trays of sunflower seeds.  i needed to hear that; needed something to change the direction of my funk; something to affirm rather than remind. 

the landscape sits in limbo.  brown and gray.  complacency. 

soon, the ski trails will bear the brunt of my poor technique and uphill cursing.  as i get older, pacing has displaced youthful exertion. 

“take your time”  i say to myself.  “nothing will change.”

insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result. 

next time, it will be different.