The nights are beginning to grow rather cold*
I find my mind drifting in the daytime and overcome at nightfall.
I am becoming ever more aware
In this hundred odd day of salty air.
Winter is peeking in through the sky
To defeat, for a while, my tepid smile.
In the eventide I have cried alone
As this big pond feels less like a home
Than any place that I've ever been
My life defined by the wind.
What a state I'm in.