An initial unrehearsed foray into descriptive words while looking out my window.
|The daytime sun hibernates now; shadows gone and dim light. The colors of the day and night are static. Light and dark; either or; waking sleeping. Timelessness as time passes.|
Grey mist envelopes our new home. Tiny pinheads of moisture glinting under floodlights. The land and trees soften and are enrobed in moss and lichen. Even the granite boulders punctuating our yard are now emerald green and fuzzy.
The cats move but all else slumbers. Our orange tabby walks through a grey-green still life. His eyes twitch at me as if to ask, "Where? Where has everyone gone?"
We swim underwater through the mist as the winter solstice looms. We swim in the magic of our under-mist soft green existence while glancing at the calendar and wondering, "when can we take a breath again?"
And pondering whether wakeful coyotes have a knack at seeing an orange tabby against the grey.