"A rather mild January..."

A rather mild January

in a small, forgotten town,

quiet like a cemetery

in its fleeting evening gown.

Flicker of the lighter flame.

Curling smoke. The lonely star,

skinny-dipping, unashamed,

in the nearby reservoir.

Here I wander, wavering,-

an enraptured, blissful drunk, -

whispering and savoring

poetry against my tongue.