Winter Wander Dream

I look out the window

So high off the ground

I watch through the

Snow-strained branches

Of the tallest tree

Within reach through the panes

No one is out there

This mid-afternoon

The neighborhood is napping

I try, but am unable to dial the phone

I hear someone slowly

Climbing the stairs

I remain hunched on the beanbag

Watching the snow

Feeling alone

I’d rather climb down those branches

Than go out the front door

I am waiting where I should not be