Ice (and the dark street)

At night
with the dog-
I like the way the ice
crushes,
ringing out through the empty,
dark, deserted street.

I tell my mind; no,
I command it to be mindful,
and look at the dog’s fur, the way her back muscles creak as she moves,
striding,
determined through the slush.

I listen to the ice,
crunch, crunch, crunch
underneath my practical boots.
And count my clouded breaths.

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