BALMY DAY

Snow belt, and no snow, temperate weather, a sun too warm for winter. I stroll inside a premonition, I know not whose or what, only that there is something strange in the air. It settles in a half fog on the horizon, as though pensive, as though someone forgot to tell it something and it waits for direction and purpose. So do I. There is nothing exact in this day, only a calm, unreasuring misunderstanding, listless, like the shuffle of an old shoe toward whatever comes...