the leaves have fell off all the trees and despite the fact that i can see through the naked branches, i still can't see the stars for the fog. it the kind of fog that creeps up on you around corners and taps your left shoulder and quickly moves to your right side when you turn your head. outside is a death trap and i can't get used to the cold. i want to love it, to embrace it, to cuddle in front of a fire or walk briskly down the trail, feeling the coolness on my cheeks but knowing that i am warm. have you ever looked closely at hoar frost? it clings to pine needles like nylons in humid southern afternoons. it clings but it also pulls away like a thousand jagged saw tooths or a layer of sharks teeth. i've never seen anything so polar, clinging and pulling. it's like me in a way. stretching with all its might, pulled by some unseen force towards the mysterious future yet grounded, rooted to the tree afraid to take the first bite that will eventually devour the elephant. if i can't see things through to a successful ending, i terminate them before they begin and in the spring, i melt with the warm sun and trickle into the thawing ground. some wise wit once said, nothing ventured, nothing gained. well, my angels, he was right.