Saturday, January 13, 2007
Fang and claw
The air is full of flashing glitter streaking by the windows, glinting, sharp, scintillating rainbows of crystal. Melting snow drips from the eaves growing longer and longer, a crystal fang milky white and sharp as a blade. Herds of clouds amble by and smoke crawls slowly from chimneys up and down the street. The snow has muffled all sound, even the rumbling city trucks as they skim the winter pitted asphalt and lay down tracks of orange-gold sand. It is a cold and heartless winter day where the wind bites deeply and scours the trees of cushioning layers of feather light white. The claws and fangs of winter's hold cling tightly.