You look out the window to see the dark cloud cover, a gray beret atop the blue bald pate of the sky. Snow comes later today, it’s been foretold. You’re glad for the turtleneck and sweater you wear, the thick wool socks. Even inside it’s chilly. You watch the neighbor’s steers rubbing against each other, scratching what itches. A flock of starlings suddenly lifts from the ground and zig-zags across, up and down the sky, coming to rest in the next pasture over. Who knows why, other than they love to dance, this aerobic show from Nature. Here where it rains most of the year, the grass is emerald green, covering the rise and swell of hillocks and pastures, beauty to the eyes. You’ve seen one lone Grosbeak and hope for more. So many trees are budding and a single daffodil greets you aside the front sidewalk. Everything seems slow but awakening. All this will be white and silent tomorrow. You long for summer.
Love this piece. I swing wildly between loathing winter and loving the silence of it along with the storms. These tiny moments I am in the habit of forgetting and this helps me to stop that!
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