Brat Farrar (bratfarrar) wrote,
Brat Farrar
bratfarrar

Snow!

Really and truly: sticking to the ground and the street and everything.

Every time it snows--every time--I have this breathless, yearning, delighted feeling, like I could/should almost crawl out of my skin (myself) in order to get into it properly. Same feeling I get while driving through the rolling Pennsylvania farm country, or look out over the ocean in the early morning or dying evening, or in winter when the trees are like black lace against a twilight sky.

It's only 9 pm and I have a headlamp. I think I'm going for a walk.
Tags: weather
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  • 19 comments

  • poem: August

    - Hilaire Belloc The soldier month, the bulwark of the year, That never more shall hear such victories told; He stands apparent with his…

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    - Charles Reznikoff Not because of victories I sing, having none, but for the common sunshine, the breeze, the largess of the spring. Not for…

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