Thursday

The world is weird

at 10:30 on a Thursday morning in

late November.

The sky is crisp

and blue

and the snow-capped mountains are

illuminated

in the background

of the city.

The trees look

sharper than usual

their pine needles

the only things left

from the shedding of their leaves

and even from a distance

I can pick out

the individual spines.

The world is quiet

at 10:30 on a Thursday morning in

late November

and empty

save for a few joggers

and stay-at-home parents.