Snow holds the street
in place.

Footsteps disappear
as soon as they’re made,
one after another.

Windows keep their distance,
light sealed behind glass.

I count my steps
as if numbers
could slow the cold,
as if the day
might hesitate.

January speaks
only of what remains –
breath clouding,
hands forgetting warmth,
the quiet work of erasure.

I don’t listen to January.
I keep counting,
until the snow
stops answering.

---

Gordan Struić is a Croatian lawyer, poet, and musician from Zagreb. His work has appeared in numerous literary journals in Croatian and English, including 34th Parallel, Half Mystic, Stone Poetry Quarterly, and Headlight Review. In 2025, he received a Special Recognition Award at the Beyond Words contest in Trieste. He writes about silence, memory, and the ways small details can hold entire seasons.