It is almost overwhelming,
especially at the end of winter,
the beginning of the mud season
when endings and beginnings are
not far apart and the roads and
streets hold memories as if
they are waiting for me to drive
on them, look and see what time
has done. I drive on them now
and again, take in a deep breath,
let out a deeper sigh. Remember what
turns to make so I don’t get lost.
-Byron Hoot
