When?

Dramatically striking a pose in the mirror, 

This is me 

today.

Where will I be this time tomorrow,

And where will my feet have taken me?

What will I have accomplished 

And what white lies will I have told 

To lessen my burden,

As they drift down as snowflakes

From a cloudy sky

And gather at my feet.

I travel through the fields,

Cold in a fleece not meant for winter:

I haven’t pulled my winter clothes out just yet,

I am not ready for change.

But it has arrived, and even as my heart 

Clenches in fear,

I rise.

When will you?