Morning Papers

I can't stop walking.
Street after street not registering.
Wooden benches mossy with damp
don't stop me.

Gusts encircle my strides
that refuse to slow,
to bend their will
like the blades of grass
bowing in mock surrender.

A dogwalker with his chin tucked
firmly into his scarf nods.
The collie looks up at him,
loyal trust dripping from his eyes
jolts me back to her birth.

Shivering as the wind eats
my smoky breath,
I place my hands in pockets
and go in to buy the morning papers.