All through the day the sky was a riot. Birds rising up on the winds that are sweeping down. Sunlight warming the icy spray that this storm would make of rain. Hail riddling the skin with a copse of shivers. The whole world whipped into spheres and change.
I fell asleep, trying to shrug off the day with drowsy whims, dreaming of ache and hush. I woke in the dead dark of an unlit room, swaddled in the odd tectonics of restless sleep. A tangle of sheets and blankets, a pillow shrugging off its case. Finding clothes, a chill beset me. Human shreds finding the resonance of ice.
The rain treads on, all pause and stagger. The wind wilds by these conspiracies of flesh and cloth. Outside I idle, lounging into the heft of a stretched spine, that unslung reach towards ease. The street is cluttered with waste paper and puddles. Traffic scuttling on with a slickened hush. I spread my fingers through the cold diving sky, every ache an urge set free.