Tuesday, February 4, 2025, 27*
Snow falling like darts as we went to bed; this morning we walked on textured ice. I threw green crystals from a kitchen jar, safer to handle, non-tracking, won’t damage floors or carpets, won’t leave a slimy residue. The next time we went out, a beautiful lace ice pattern. The Christmas card vision of evergreens holding snow is gone although snow still rests on some oak limbs. The things that happen in the dark; the things I can’t see in the light. Zayne sits at my side restless persistent going away coming back wanting to be touched. Ruger sleeps in the space where the keyboard was until it found a place with music books on a table. Zoslt between a box, my chair, half of him under my desk. Birds sing in a video with a hang drum reminding me of summer mornings in another part of Maine when I was walking alone toward the beach. And now the phone rings. The birds still sing as I determine to answer it or not.
"The simple believe anything, but
the prudent give thought to their steps."
Proverbs 14:15
Art: LJ Austin
