It is March, isn't it? I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of snow thwumping from the trees onto the roof. Between the snow from the night before and most of today, I got about two feet of snow! Of course, Nino is thrilled. We've already been outside for the requisite snowball toss n' fetch (and eat). It really is pretty, but I feel like I should put up the colored lights and plan to open presents.
But maybe that's because today is a gift, as was yesterday, as will tomorrow be. There's no present like the time.
Speaking of time, between the time change and the full moon, my circadian rhythm is in a tizzy. I feel as though I'm trying to recover from a lost weekend of heavy tequila drinking with HB or Timothy! If only I'd had so much fun that I didn't know about.
Still, the weather once again plays fiddler to the dance of the muses and I've been in fine creative form. I wrote a new poem last night (See Scribbles on the Wall on the sidebar). There was something about the hush in the air after the newly fallen snow that felt as though something or someone was whispering my name. I lifted my face to the sky and waited for the expected stirring of the steaming cauldron that burbles away with my soul gunk. I did not have to wait long. Not at all.
On Saturday I fell into a two day email conversation with a stranger and found a soul that makes me feel as though I just returned to my favorite neighborhood pub. It's odd, this ethernet and the relative comfort of anonymity that comes with it. However, that very anonymity makes us feel a connection that we don't always feel in the "outside world." Mom always said that the internet would be the downfall of civilization as we know it. In some ways, I heartily agree. And yet, without the silent vocals, the hearts and minds that get linked in the clatter of keys being struck, where would we be? Where would I be? Who would ever hear my voice or yours, if not for the words scattered like so many dandelion pods across this great universal meadow?
Let the silence roar.