Population and Isolation

                                  In the time it took to create the sidewalks that unravel below the fallen leaves,...I walked along the rural paved walkways to Main and broad. A small city,..more of a commuter work zone. Where the 9 to 5er's take refuge in their uninspired routines. A Friday perhaps is brighter and fancier,...with our airs on. Maybe even a smile would tend to leak from a normally pensive expression. These moments in time,..on the brisk doorstep of Winter. Anticipation in the wind. Nature aligned with an underlying spell of premonition, The migrating bird,...or the hibernating squirrel,..to gather or to fly on.
                                 Cough syrup and domestication. The festive lights of the holiday tree in the living room. A doorbell was ringing through the evening window of town. Autumn clothes are worn,..yet clean. The twinkling of  myriad light bulbs hooked into a slim chord. Plugged into the electrical socket amidst a carpeted environment. Pets and their scents,...reminders and resolutions of what could of been. Hearts and candy canes,....postcards and letters never sent. Bunkers in the basement stored with dry goods. Isolation and insulation. The oak and the tinsel. The withered trees do fall to the icy ground. The cold will bring cramps to your aching limbs. The blood that runs thin,...with the alcohol and aspirin. Jack Daniel's and the Captain have taken your loved ones for a spin. Among the ruins of centuries. What does our ancestry have to offer among the wasteland of time lines?,...off track exponentially. The railways and lines of the city,..to the north and western to the jaded sky.
                                       Pedestrians have lingered on the urban corners,..with numb fingers in between their gloved hands. Polluted smoke from the chimneys high up above the breathing sewers. The aggravated tendencies of the jay-walked mind,...thrown out of the way of morals and purity. The slime of the curb as it looks to cars motoring over dark roadways. Midnight prevails onto dawn of the morning. The stars still hang in an amber awakening. Invisible through the enveloped sky of light.
                                   To be alive is to be immortal in times like these.