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Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Thaw ugly

Fifty shades or so


We lived la vida blanco this winter, again, didn’t we?  Isn’t it delightful, we sing to one another at Christmas time. Met my old lover in the grocery store, the snow was falling Christmas Eve, and all. The music stops in January. But our white life is far from over and all we can do is dig deeper into the disguise. White like glue. White on rice. Great white way, that was my street. On a snowy day the quiet comes falling as on deaf ears. And time becomes no time in that monochromatic silence. But all that’s a lie, isn’t it, Yuri? If a little stubborn. Comes a March day and then other when it’s not so cold nor so silent nor the color palette so persistently ... absent of color. This afternoon the snow turned to rain and in the little woods outside the office, fog lurked at the roots of the thin, bare trees, winter’s wan ghost rising from the fading, dirty snow drifts. There’s no prettiness in the undiscovered dregs of weather here in Indiana. But last week’s full Worm Moon shone strong and clear, the finale of the exhausted season; like an old lover, after a turn she’ll be back in a new dress. La vida, indeed.

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