It is elegiac wintertime Currier & Ives outside the double window beyond the computer screen where I sit.
Limbs scattershot, outlined with translucence. They sway awkwardly with an unaccustomed weight.
It is warm inside, power on. Electricity only twice flickering, feigning disappearance. Once last night, again this morning.
It is the morning of this, another severely winter’s day.
There is the quiet that comes with a padded landscape.
There is wonder at the beauty of nature’s ravage.
There is melancholy, being held prisoner by her vicissitudes.
Emmylou and Rodney carried on last night, without the many of us, stormstruck, who, braced by the elements, stayed at home.
They did “Pancho and Lefty.” While I, compelled not to brave the streets, am left with a video.
The desert’s quiet, Cleveland’s cold/ And so the story ends we’re told/Pancho needs your prayers it’s true, but save a few for Lefty too/ He only did what he had to do, and now he’s growing old.