February 15th 2016

This morning I brought my daughters to school. I traveled over Sharon hill, then Northwest along the White River. The temperature was – 11 F and the deadly waters steamed with a deceptive warmth. Then driving back I saw one of the most spectacular deep-winter visions I’ve ever seen. If only I’d had a camera. With the sun behind it, I saw a ‘steamdevil’ rising from the River’s middle like the barely visible shadow of a towering wraith. Imagine a water funnel made from a river’s icy vapors—a vision out of Dante. It towered two to three hundred feet, slowly twisting but stationary. I’ve never seen anything like it.
····the wood-stove—the cat’s yellow eyes and then
········the cat
My cat threads the early shadows of a winter’s evening, the tiger’s yellow still in her eyes. She pauses, motionless, sensing my gaze. Then inscrutably remembers her dark intent. She vanishes in the unlit rumors of another room. What she does and where she goes—unsuspected.
101 February 15th 2016 | bottlecap

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