The sun burned a cold white as it did all day from behind a layering of clouded sky that forced its rays upward as if to request attention to be painted. Yet, the Hudson River School and its Bierstadts would have required brushes divine to paint this solemn sky majestic. It was anything but, and I was everything but warm.
Unshielded from all four sides, I stood atop the Tenth Street Bridge hoping the numbness that already found my feet would overlook that I had hands and a nose. From this vantage, the upstream ripples were whitecaps on the Pacific viewed from a seven-seat Island Air commuter. This bridge railing–the hand of someone past held with fingers and knuckles just as white.
A barge would beneath pass to give scale to the waves and remind me this was just a river and I had a dinner to prepare. Besides, I could see clearly now that the trees have lost their camouflage. And I have some time since time seems to have slowed its pace, as it might when one flirts with love.
1 comment:
this is great -- i like "It was anything but, and I was everything but warm." also "numbness that already found my feet would overlook that I had hands and a nose" -- you interact with nature like an old friend.
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