the outside world got really quiet. the snow fell most of the afternoon and into early evening. we decided to go nowhere, immersed in the horrific news of the day. it was saturday, the last day of february.

i suppose we could have gone out – there were errands to be done. i suppose we could have gone somewhere to entertain ourselves or be entertained. i suppose we could have tipped a glass at some bistro or bar, shared a meal together, people-watched.

but this morning had brought us the overnight news of a new war conflict and – as we tried to process this new insanity – while others posted patriotic country songs clearly in favor of this pedo-files-distraction/this follow-the-corrupt-money-trail/this what-the-hell-is-this-anyway – we just weren’t up to leaving our home.

i suppose that (at least some) of mother nature will go on after we humans have utterly destroyed this planet, after we have made it impossible to live with each other, after every safety has been discarded and the world has become literally toxic in every single way.

i suppose that it may still snow. there may still be quiet days, when there is a hush outside. there may still be sun. there may still be stars. all that is likely. it will be our loss.

this morning – as i write this – the sun is in my eyes. it is bathing the quilt in light and i can’t look out the window – it is full of bright.

i can hear the birds outside. they are at the birdfeeder, on barney, feasting on birdseed and sunflower seeds. they are at the birdbath, cleaned and filled with water. everything else is still quiet, as it is early.

i’m thinking it doesn’t hurt to stoke up on these things – these sights, these sounds. it doesn’t hurt to hold them close or store them away.

because right now the future seems utterly uncertain.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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