at the edges where things fall apart

when life starts to feel like there is nothing beautiful to see
I step closer
I look down
I find myself kneeling on my cold sidewalk in 16 degrees taking pictures without gloves on
and feel like, yes,
ok
I can find beauty
here
in the edges
where the snow and ice begins
to rot
leaving spaces and openings
where it used to feel solid,
where it is fragile and uncertain,
where whatever there was unresolved underneath peeks through again
and begs to be looked at.
I will sit and look.
It can be beautiful here.
It's beautiful when I look
close enough
even though it's all falling apart.