Two hours before dawn:
Frost covers everything, even the sides of the bus shelter.
I stand waiting; thinking about my sky scarf. About routines and habits.
I have been unfaithful to my scarf this month. Although I knit every morning on the bus, I haven't worked on my scarf for over a week. I write notes: "gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, blue, white."
I've caught up with the spinning. Tomorrow I'll catch up with the knitting. Maybe. At the very least I will write a note. Probably, "gray."