augury doggerel

Friday, December 21, 2001

Snow, Singing

I needn't have hurried out to the bus stop this morning. The snow is blowing and the streets are slippery and everything is spinning and slow and lost. After a few minutes of standing in the cold -- there is no shelter at our bus stop, just a sign that says "bus" and a tree with no leaves -- I began singing softly to keep warm. Some of the people nearest me at the stop moved a little further away, but the people nearest me in the world moved a little closer. And you have no idea how warming is the absurdity of singing "Happy Talk" to yourself at a Polish bus stop in winter.

On the bus, defrosting, I read of Gawain in a warm bed when the beautiful lady of the castle crept in to tempt him.


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