augury doggerel

Saturday, December 22, 2001


Soft snow floated down as I got ready to go out this morning, but the moment I closed the door behind me, the trickster god who watches me and laughs heaved cartloads of hard white ice balls down. I was alone on the street, hooting at the impudence, as the snow around me pocked like a frozen moon. When I got to the corner no more than a minute later, it stopped.

I walked across the street to the bus stop. The air was clear. A truck full of Christmas trees went one way and a truck full of coal went the other. Two girls about ten years old slid down the steep slope to the sidewalk to say hello to a nun on her way to work. A boy carrying a large pair of paper angel's wings and a candle lantern walked by. There was no sign that hail had fallen at the bus stop. The people there were not, as I was, picking and shaking balls of ice from their pockets, hats, shoulders, bags, and packs. The snow on the slope, except for where the girls had glided down to greet Sister something-or-other, was smooth. The trickster aims well.


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