Montpelier in Winter

The tiny train station

a beacon  in the

mounds of snow and

then the cab ride through

the somnolent town,

colorful Victorian homes

contrasting the white,

the gold-domed capital

glowing like a nimbus,

guiding the way up the hill

to the college, where we’d

analyze characters like

our own flesh and blood,

all of us crowded together,

breathing the same air,

our hearts beating faster,

energy flowing so fervently,

that one needed to pause,

and I’d retreat back down,

to the health store where

I’d sit by a window overlooking

the frozen river, and drink

herbal tea, watching the

churn of water under

the ice, knowing that

soon it would all be a

rush, and that this

would be a