I wake long
before dawn.
How is it
only bad habits
grow old?
Icy windows groan,
and it is almost
as cold
inside
as out.
A few lights
flicker on
in this tiny town
we once made
prosper—
small needs
ministered by a cluster
of shops
around a single traffic light,
that might as well have gone out.
Only the old
live here now,
and we take our creaks
and groans to the last
local shop, to reminisce.
I make my coffee
and bundle into
what warmth I own
to watch the sun come up—
that one fresh start.
