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THE HEART OF BRIGHTNESS

Big surprise of snow last night after big winds of change, this morning sky a swirl of pearlescent gray, though nothing like you'd expect for the cusp of yukiguni, 10~15 paltry centimeters; still, it's white and silent with that particular spatial beauty mountainsides afford, and delights in having fire somewhere at its heart, as for example in our stove. The only ones unhappy with the snow are the crows, who hate snow because it's so damned white and makes them stand out like the sun would stand out if it shone at night, even though that's what the sun does, actually, but the simile works in a weird way. Anyhow, being the color of night, crows prefer to be part of the big shadow that pervades the day, and are generally very at home standing hunched over unseen in trees, one with the shapeless shadows, spying on everything, chuckling now and then or playing a prank, until they feel it's time to assert themselves by laughing raucously at the world. And then snow comes along and ruins the fun. I see a caucus of crows huddled forlornly in the leafless trees across the field, all hunched up in individual disgruntled bunches of wet black feathers, not even harrumphing to each other, no escape from this devilish unblackness, just scrunching their snow-covered shoulders and leering black-eyed at the unsightly whiteness of it all, so damn pure and soft and yah-yah, no sense of fun whatsoever, just this ridiculously sculptured passiveness you can't even eat or walk in it's disgusting, a couple dozen bedraggled silhouettes over there in the bare branches, the bitter dried-up fruits of night, waiting till one day they are invisible again.


Utter Non-Sequitur Department

It's interesting to read all those gun-loving macho rightist patriots angrily asserting their deeply heartfelt compassion for the plight of the poor maltreated Iraqi people under the despotic bootheel of that gun-loving macho rightist patriot...