poopoorama
reading
Outside the sky is the color of old pearls. Snow lies thick on the ground and, through the window, I see three sullen crows, still as musical notes, occupying the same branch of the old oak in the back yard.
Inside it’s warm. I sip at my coffee and look at photographs online. I find myself in each of them. I share a glass of pinot grigio in the company of monks, I smell fried dough on Coney Island, I hear the bell on a cat’s collar and watch a child, dejected and friendless, walk by dragging behind her a favorite toy. A swan, black and white and so perfectly framed, glides by, rippling the reflected clouds on the still surface of the lake. I see her in bed, reading, her face toward the light, the smell of lavender-scented soap fresh on her, the room soft and still except for the hushed whisk as she turns the page.
Outside it’s beginning to snow again. The three crows are gone. My coffee now cold. I still smell the lavender scent of soap.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
