March 2022

A faint dusting of snow on a ground otherwise mostly brown again. It’s just below freezing. The sun makes a dramatic entrance from beneath a curtain of cloud.

The far-off fluting of tundra swans. I scan the sky for them—no luck. I resume reading about horrors on my phone.

The sky clears at about the same rate as caffeine clears my head—a transitory state, no doubt, and host to a mob of crows.