Some words.
Feb. 13th, 2006 09:43 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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animal_quillsA short reflection on myself and the weather. Nothing too serious or interesting, but I like it, and was feeling birdy and very contemplative when I wrote it. I like run-on sentences, as you may notice while you are reading. (This was edited a couple times, but only for typos)
Outside, snowflakes are falling silently. I can see them, little white dots drifting down, sticking to the grass and the sidewalk and my car. The sky is grey and cloudy, and I am drawn closer, forced to stand up and walk over to the window so I can have a better view. I visualize myself flying through it, black and shining, contrasting sharply with the sparkling white landscape beneath me. I am swirling with wings outstretched and the biting cold air is forcing me to keep moving, keep moving. Then I open my eyes and I am still standing next to the window, one hand raised with fingers touching the icy glass, my feet planted firmly on the ground, featherless, undeniably human.
The crow in my head preens his feathers, waiting to see my reaction. In a way, the idyllic winter scene outside my window is compelling, and makes me want to just disappear into the clouds, glossy-stiff feathers propelling me forward... but I am human, and so vulnerable to cold. The crow fluffs up his feathers, and I wrap a scarf around my neck and zip up my jacket, and restlessly await spring so I can fly.
Outside, snowflakes are falling silently. I can see them, little white dots drifting down, sticking to the grass and the sidewalk and my car. The sky is grey and cloudy, and I am drawn closer, forced to stand up and walk over to the window so I can have a better view. I visualize myself flying through it, black and shining, contrasting sharply with the sparkling white landscape beneath me. I am swirling with wings outstretched and the biting cold air is forcing me to keep moving, keep moving. Then I open my eyes and I am still standing next to the window, one hand raised with fingers touching the icy glass, my feet planted firmly on the ground, featherless, undeniably human.
The crow in my head preens his feathers, waiting to see my reaction. In a way, the idyllic winter scene outside my window is compelling, and makes me want to just disappear into the clouds, glossy-stiff feathers propelling me forward... but I am human, and so vulnerable to cold. The crow fluffs up his feathers, and I wrap a scarf around my neck and zip up my jacket, and restlessly await spring so I can fly.
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Date: 2006-02-15 12:20 pm (UTC)Sky and wind make me want to stretch wings and fly, but it really is too cold..