waiting for snow

Not until Tuesday, they forecast, and flurries at that.  But the sky outside looks like –ah, it’s changed since I last looked up, and now the blue is showing.  Wanting snow on a Sunday is akin to wanting a holiday on top of a holiday.  For me, snow frees up thinking.  Oh, what could I write with snow falling outside and a plateful of warm brownies by my side.  I read the Times online. Madison Smart Bell wrote a very good essay in the the Times about Haitian literature. I put potatoes to boil, got some curtains up, and went to yoga.  Now I watch the sky again, a moody blue, the color of school uniforms that have long faded.  There is a story called “The Cloud Maker” by a French author whose name I can’t remember–Escarpit?–about a factory that matter-of-factly produces clouds.  Well, somewhere behind this blue rests a sunset.

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