Sunday, January 8, 2017


I've been inside most of the day, but finally get out at dusk.  The snow's all broken up, pock-marked by footprints or pushed to the curb, and the sidewalks too busy.  I've missed the best.  But by Second, it's almost deserted, and the traffic's down to the slow, stately sweep of sanitation vehicles. The snow, falling and fallen, illuminates and muffles the look of the streets, and the trucks and the lamps and buildings cast blurred halos of red, yellow, white light.  Along with the sound of tires in slush and salt, & the grind of metal scraping asphalt, it fuses softness with the hard-edged.  A seasonal Currier & Ives park setting is all well and good, but it's not for me.

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