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The Sunny Wind
Jan. 31st, 2008 10:20 am♠
The way the strong buffeting wind sounds blowing through this sunny day...
Looking out the reading-room window, the white-burning sun makes the outdoors look bleached and bare, and it feels like we are living in the old wilderness West on a sparsely populated plain; you expect to see tumbleweeds blowing through the deserted streets, instead of the stray trash cans rattling down the road.
That wind blows around the houses and cars, sounding like discordant notes played on a horn.
Bo and I are secure and cozy inside, as if just barely protected from all that coursing nature outside. The aged dog sleeps on Moggy's blanket of many colors on the rickety bed. And I go on reading, and dreaming, of a richer world filled with meaningfulness and import.
xXx
The way the strong buffeting wind sounds blowing through this sunny day...
Looking out the reading-room window, the white-burning sun makes the outdoors look bleached and bare, and it feels like we are living in the old wilderness West on a sparsely populated plain; you expect to see tumbleweeds blowing through the deserted streets, instead of the stray trash cans rattling down the road.
That wind blows around the houses and cars, sounding like discordant notes played on a horn.
Bo and I are secure and cozy inside, as if just barely protected from all that coursing nature outside. The aged dog sleeps on Moggy's blanket of many colors on the rickety bed. And I go on reading, and dreaming, of a richer world filled with meaningfulness and import.
