I looked over my shoulder
to catch a glimpse of that
monster,
the one that’s always there
at my back.

Completely alone,
the dog and I bowed down
to the bitter wind and
I pulled my coat up and over
my chin.

A perfectly white canvas
of sky and water in front of me.

Etched lines.
Muted tones.
Woven patterns.

All, perfectly composed and arranged on the white,
for my pleasure, alone.