frigid air means fragile fingers

i close my eyes and i’m where i was meant to be; 1935 louisiana bayou. nothing but time and history and warm air underneath my wings. almost midnight underneath the moon, nothing but untainted surroundings to distract me, the mosquitos thick and the air finally cool. i’ll dream about the city and all of the big new shiny buildings going up, the possibilities finally endless again. but i’m safe. i’m young in a new world.