we fell into unwilling hibernation
that early spring. trees hadn't yet
bud their impertinent blooms into the
brooding ides of march. life,
oblivious, hadn't yet paid its room
and board for an early november
check-in. sealed in and slumbering, 
breathing was made unprecious, 
mattering dematerialized us, numbness
overwhelmed our stored selves. 
thoughtless meltwater loosened, 
dissolved, and removed the natural paths 
between us. and staying
in the back of our caves, 
surrounded by scant reserves, 
we never considered what 
wintering through another 
season's cycle might mean.


the doors stand neatly
nesting resting sleeping
keeping time with 
echoes of the last bell.
the halls to walls
and ceilings look down
on rarely scuffed
floors as well.
flow has slowed and the 
body bends low and
sleeps restlessly-
an empty shell.