Frost on the Rigging

Hurry and See

The slow-motion movement of the first rays of dawn.

Cold, withering glances on the streets.

Hurrying along sidewalks dusted with snow, slippery beneath.

The bundled-up masses moving past me. Everyone filled with purpose, needing to be somewhere.

And I have somewhere to be, too.

But I'm not there. And as the sun moves slowly up into the sky, melting icicles on the side of the building, I stop and watch the slow, slow dripping.

Wondering how it can become a torrent... and whether that will happen anytime soon.