This old knee aches; a souvenir from simpler days. A talisman that predicts winter’s approach and along with it comes my poet notes. They’ll ride in on snowflakes shoulders one hundred million strong, skirling on gusty spirals under the orange sodium street lights. I gaze and smile as I take in the frozen beauty that is the dead of night during winter time.

My foot finds the bike pedal and my mind flashes images of steaming tea and the nug I have stashed away in my bag before my eyes. I zoom down the steep hill a hundred miles per second, relishing the wind that bites at my face, as I nervously pump the break. Different arrangement s of reds, greens, and blues whip by in beautiful streams that send me on a trip and makes me tighten my grip. At the bottom of the hill I stop, and waiting for the light to turn green I inhale as deep as I can, reaching for all the negative energy that hides inside of these throbbing bones. Exhaling, I watch as it is expelled from my soul on breath coils and is taken away on the wind. I drink in my surroundings and my heart blossoms in the harsh winds and fills with words.

I will write this all down when I get home, I will blow smoke rings and take a few tokes while jotting down those poet notes as Maggie snores beside me. I forget all about the tea as I pass out with my red notebook in my lap.