Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Learning to read

Everything tells a story, but I don't always know how to read it. The way oak leaves rustle like crumpled brown stars against their boughs long after the other trees' leaves have been stripped away, the sudden comeliness of frost when it beads ragweed and rose with jewels, each is a narrative unfolding petal by page, second by sentence. Sometimes I have to laugh at myself hunched at my computer, tapping out echoes of color in my head, while out the window Nature is inking her wonders with the utmost sumptuosity.

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