|Portal detail from a sculpture, WCU North Carolina Glass |
2012--alas, not sure which one this was...
Cheery, agile little bug of a bulldozer starts jingling outside my bedroom window around 6 a.m., cutting down snow walls and thrusting them up-up-up into a dump truck. This is the way of the No'th. I object, but the unremitting cheerfulness continues.
The pyramid glowing in the fireplace resembles a heap of brilliant orange topaz and immediately sets flame to any new spar of wood. It emits heat and sleep. It appears perfect and alien.
Stars. Crystal. Snow snatches at my foot, slips it away. I flail at the air, become buoyant, do not fall. Yet.
There has been snow and will be more snow. Occasionally the windows are so blind with falling flakes that for a moment it feels like the end of the world. I read the news, which seems strangely upside down and inside out. A fatwa against polio vaccination, selfies with the president, wranglings over the existence of global warming, macaques who have learned to steal coins and use vending machines, a teen in a banana costume with a rifle... A boy murders a girl, wishing to sell his soul to the devil. The group Reporters without Borders demotes the country to 46th in press freedom, and the Founding Fathers rotate like factory spindles in the grave. The sky blues and brightens and now begins very slowly, imperceptibly, to gather cloud for tomorrow's snow. "For destruction ice / Is also great."
Bunches. Little bunches. Sparrows, juncos, chickadees, titmouses, the bright exclamation of a cardinal. Stabs at the bowl. Hammerings of a seed against the lilac. The temperature has risen to -5, and the brave little birds flit from the rose canes to the feeder to the lilac and then puff themselves up in the sun. For the first time this winter, I see a goldfinch at the feeder--and now the first purple finch of the year! Perhaps there is hope for another spring.