while we slept, the world underwent a revision.
tiny icicles fell from above and inundated the black with refractions.
when we got up, there was no difference between up and down, right and left: all was white, even the air.
I let da Kat out. He sniffs the air. He jumps up, trying to catch the new whiteness in his paws. The roof is too slippery.
he disappears from my sight rather rapidly.
no, I do not laugh.
when he comes in, his fur is dotted with tiny wet diamonds, and he behaves like nothing has happened.
he asks me to let him out again, and runs into the white yard where he frolics and rolls in the snow.
the four-crow murder on the roof of the shed did not approve.

Categories: En

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