Monday, November 12, 2012

Muted Tones of Softness

Clammy cold hands fumbled with my bike lock, repeating rotations and impatiently tugging at the unyielding metal. When it finally came off, I tucked the cable neatly in my track bag. I straddled over the frame of my bike and started toward home. 

I always wonder, absent mindedly how many rotations of the pedals follow that first hard push down to start. But once I gain momentum lose all consciousness of the whirling of my feet beneath me.

Today was muted. The cold left from a constant drizzle of rain that had continued through the day. Soft grey clouds, what was left from the storm, were smeared across the sky, like soft touches of charcoal. There were golden orange undertones, reflecting an obscured sun. Everything let off light without a hint of brightness. It was the dark rich sound of an orchestra nested in the bass tones of the sousaphone. There were no hard edges left, just hushed tones and subtle suggestions.

Deadened sky. A hanging chill in the air. Fine suitors to the trees stripped bare; faded leaves already littering the pavement. 

Today, the universe was  unconventionally beautiful.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Haiku

Refrigerator
Eating Refrigerator 
Cannibalism