MORNING CALLIGRAPHY


This morning while waiting in the falling snow for the train, which was late due to said snow (a lot of whiteness descended upon us during the night, rendering my left-out motorcycle into a sculpture by Dali), I was gazing into the distance along the quiet gray edge of the Lake, which was barely visible, when I dimly saw coming toward me out of the lacy whiteness a huge black wedge comprised of smaller black wedges, themselves made up of individual black wedges, flapping gracefully. It was the wild geese, heading toward their roosting places around Katata, as famously depicted in Hiroshige's Omi woodcut, Geese Sweeping Down to Katata.

While the inshore wing of the vast flock passed soundlessly only a few feet overhead, the outward wing trailed far back, streaming out low over the quiet gray water, growing thinner and thinner like the firm finishing stroke of a skywide brush-painting of geese heading home, on a parchment white as falling snow.