It's warming. Snow is going. Girl on a scooter in Shelburne. Two boys playing basketball on an outside court. Skunk crossing the road in West Rutland. Fox nosing around in the back field.
March 3
Breakup. Not Elizabeth and me but a bond nearly as strong: the bond between seasons, winter and spring, the bond beginning to separate, loosen, buckle and fold. Frost heaves in the barns, on the roads--the earth is stretching, coming back to life.
Elizabeth saw a bluebird flying through the woods the other day, the first "real" bird, rather than the silent and angry winter warriors who've stayed on -- the great gray owl, ravens, eagles and the thermal-king grouse. The first real bird, one whose sole purpose is to sing and splash color across the land, to spread wild beauty.
I, too, feel myself beginning to buckle, to stretch.
The roads are thawing, losing the frost that has been locked into the ground's pores. The ice is turning to water, expanding, lifting the roads and the fields into waves, into a soft sea of mud.
Winter
Rick Bass
No comments:
Post a Comment