Vast and sometimes flaxen from the
sun. How many seasons does it receive? And the transitional parts?- where the
spring flows into the summer the summer lays down to slumber allowing for
autumn and the autumn becomes overtaken by a winter that holds fast and hard
but eventually melts upon itself and disappears into spring. Field. Where the
pre-storm wind ignites some willfully melancholic dream feeling right there in
waking reality. Field. Where those crows caw and you say-Its okay- Caw crows-
caw louder- because really, it is known in the marrow and blood even, that
there is no such thing as death or decay. Field. When the cold northern rain
announces itself and the dusk makes it colder yet. Field. The electric light
queen is absent, - unlike in films or storybooks. But it’s the way of things,
for some reason or for no reason. We walk on the best we can and smile some
because we are here.
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