snowmanoclock
Backwards or forwards or tangled or perfectly swan-like we all make it down the hill somehow. Gravity is a comforting constant. Snow is helpful.
You can walk on graves, you know. The soil won't know, the stones don't care, the dead are bored and blameless in their earthen apartments. You don't have to tiptoe; say hello. Knock first.
Sweetheart silhouetted on the sill, he watches the birds. Do you even know what it means to fly? And how quickly would you break their backs on your tongue?