Monday, December 13, 2010

Irregularly floating

In England, it is winter now.  The birds are quiet in the morning, the greenhouses insulated.  Neighboring pastures have taken on that hue of blue, known only to December months.   

Somewhere, there is a story of a man.  He no longer wanted to have his personal demons walking one step behind him and so he decided to sell them to a stranger on the street.  On many snow-settled days of the year, hearts have tantrums, weeping to the brain of thoughts it assumed were gone - emotions once stored, dusty in the attic with covered elbows and labelled boxes. 

Rarely, though often enough, the drum of these thoracic demons is relieved with wonderings of the ethereal; of Snow Queens in Fur.  To dream a dream in winter is perchance to wander an icicled forest.  Raucous breath, once exhaled, suspends in the hush of cold, remaining hung on the branches of trees passed.


Tali said...

That video is magical. I really want to go swimming in a fresh lake right now. Lol although im guessing in real life it would be less glamorous and delicate looking than the gorgeous girl in the video!

Jessica said...

Lol yes for some reason I can't imagine it working out too well for me if I actually did that, especially in this weather - more like lots of teeth chattering and turning blue!