Blank Pages

Everywhere I look
blank pages

The world becomes invisible
with it's coating of 
brilliant gleaming . . .
Nothingness . . .

It's been over a week since I have seen,
really seen,
brown or gray or tired green
and the cold is a constant ache
you'd think we'd be used to
by now

But no.

There's no getting used to
what can actually kill you
if you aren't paying attention

The sparkle of the snowlight 
when the sun goes down
almost makes up for this 
deep invisibility

Almost.

I've taken to wearing 
loud tie-dye
just to give myself something
other than endless nothing
to look at

Today, all black except
this brilliant rich red shawl
carelessly, jauntily thrown about my neck

It took me over a week to knit it,
all the stems and buds and leaves,
but I am now wondering
if I should have added
fringe.