It's suddenly snowing very hard. Huge flakes, falling quickly, renewing the shine on what's already fallen, creeping toward the eaves. I am on the roof, and 3 floors down, I am frozen stiff and solid in my bed.
I'm finding it easy to balance, here; every so often I remember a riddle about a rooster at the very ridge line of the roof, laying an egg. Which way does it fall? I've remembered this a few times. How many? I can't say. I am running out of memory.
When I look at the sky I think it must be dawn. I keep doing this, and sometimes I remember I am looking southwest, and that the red in the sky doesn't seem to change, ever, it just filters into pink to white to blue to indigo. None of these were my favorite color, but they are my favorite combination.
That's all I have for now. Maybe there's more to this.
Published on January 10, 2014 10:10