the season

There are boys here today. And grey-haired women breaking bite-sized portions of their chocolate chips cookies. There are red to-go cups with white xmas trees and snowflakes branding the yuletide season encroaching upon us. And a few couples, seemingly content and in routine. What do boys talk about in these coffee shops when with their pals? I'm too far to overhear. That and my music drowns out the busyness here. It's raining outside and the wind blows us here and there, like cattails. Cattails amongst the dry, brown grass once green. He walked through it this man I think of, who lives in swamps and bogs. He minds not the squishing of his boots through the squishiness of the spongy underground. I can barely make him out against the setting sun shedding light upon the webs spun with perfection. Wait I have become distracted, I was talking about boys and xmas. Right. Focus. Focus.