I Have Written a Short Story

The wind rips the smoke from my lungs. The early morning glimmers with starlight and intention. Ghosts whisper through the breaks in the wave and adjacent traffic. The hour of the wolf finds it way into the fullness of a  distant lighthouse beam as it swings across the void. The last remnants of winter pull at the lines of midnight silences. Just a whisper of a sigh, but it's there between the pauses, on the wings of a restless osprey and minor key changes. Lights dance on the horizon, so distrait yet familiar in their lethargy and I shiver. The emptiness wanders through the halls of my mind in an endless knock, an endless harrowing of the soul. The black sky above rings with want and wager as the harbinger of dawn treads across the mournful waters to greet me with snake eyes.