Snowfall, Daylight
A Short Note
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Snow starts outside. Through the thick atmosphere of snow, silence, and beyond silence, bird call. Through the snow a line drawn with the passing of cars. Through the snow, I see only the closest buildings, and a gull enveloped in white feathers, white sky across the horizon. Up close, the visual rhythm is punctuated repeatedly by pinpricks of snow. Snow is a rhythm, consistent, as if each flake strums a note, making silent music across the slow day. Another rhythm enters in the form of flock of starling, moving in tandem, black wings making their own constellation.
From some nearby distance, bringing back song against silence of day is the bright call of a single bluejay, and I wonder what it calls for. On the street, kids pull sleds, pulling laughter into their lungs and letting it go into, bursts of laughter, eager, anticipation. Their laughter comes out as cold clouds against the atmosphere.
From a Past Season:
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