Saturday, April 2, 2011

Not Ours.

What is it Galvin says? So much wind for all this sky? No: I got it wrong. I'd remembered it that way, but it's what a small sky for so much snow; what little snow for so much ground. Failing that, it can be Perhaps you didn't realize/anything can happen under a sky like this. No matter: we're cool out there, the clouds are strange and foreign, and we're seeing all at once all the wind there is. No, this is not Wyoming, not the country of those above fragments, but it's where we live, and on a day like today, the size of the land—even with our trees to cut the horizon at a reasonable place, and even with those trees to break that selfsame wind—is making itself known. This wind is from somewhere else, somewhere far away. This isn't our wind. We've got weather that does not belong to us.

Here. Small Countries. Try that on for your Saturday. Watch for frost later on. Listen to the windows bang around in their frames.

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