Little Things on a Gray Day

A tepid stream of smoke
drifts out of a chimney—
a gray day in the heart of winter.
In a little bit
I’ll go into town
to drop off books
at the library
and get medicine
at the pharmacy.
I’ll wear a warm sweater
and a winter hat.
A train whistle calls out
amongst my thoughts.
It seems to both hold,
and express,
this passing melancholy.

(Feb 2026)