Nov 12, 2007

Moses is dead


It smelled like clouds when I woke up. My window open since yesterday, and the night was gentle and the night was soft. The storm brewed quietly this morning and I walked to the pond unraveling the tangles in my brain and I heard a shot so close so loud and deafening it stopped me mid heartbeat.

Go away. Just go.

I haven't heard any since then. The hunters went home early perhaps because of the sky. 66 degrees today seems so false and beautiful. It was not raining yet when I was out. I was talking to God in the woods. Then it stormed when I was safely indoors, a troubled storm that drove hard in fits and slowed suddenly to sweetness, on and off alternating back and forth. The weather is in love, I thought. And when it had made its mind to be steady a while, I walked in the field catching raindrops in my hands.

Be strong and courageous


runnerfrog said...

You know how to post :-)
I wondered if there may be a more beautiful way to write this you wrote.
I have a directory where I send beautiful posts to revisit, this one is linked there now. So that might be an answer.
What a misfortuned fate the hunting to even exist.
You may find interesting my strange association of Schumann to rain, that I mailed you, and specially Zigeunerleben and Manfred for this sudden changes of humour of the weather. :-)
Strange links I find in my brain.

Christina said...

I have been listening to the Manfred since I mailed you back and I can hear the storm - so I don't find your association strange, though mine may be different.
If you really want obscure correlations, I would point to the one who titled her "beautiful" post "Moses is Dead". I mean really.
It made sense at the time.

Thank you - the comment was a blush.