hot and cold-cut the middle out
you are left with bare, bones
Orange leaves fall before they change
And buried under white
and buried under more white.
This is the product
of a completly desolate land.
"I don't tell lies just because people might be listening."
-Kawabata Snow Country
(I think I wrote this blog just to say that quote)
Odd and deserted bike trails/lanes took me all around Henderson. Black, apocalyptic rain clouds devoured the west and sunrise mountains. The sky in Henderson seemed to be in the eye of the storm, while I cowardly enjoyed seclusion. I could only hear the hum from my tired rolling down the pavement, the peaceful pants of my breath battling between fatigue and freezing. I needed this. A day of peace. But when I reach the bottom of a glass, or dig from the back of my brain; I am still waiting for that thunderstorm.