Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Cordley Coit (5)
Walking at five AM with dog. Have to do it early so my day will stand a chance of being creative. A blank page needs words to embellish it. A view finder needs a person in front of it. Politicians need the art of photography to bare their emptiness. The cold pre dawn prairie sounds hard under foot as the cold seeps though my boots. The Husky dances when we stop for traffic, then back to walking to heel. The wind turns the walk into a Gorden Bok song about surviving the cold in his Epic The Wind The Sea and Peter Kagen.
I can take the cold, I can take the wind but together it's a challenge best left alone. The farm lights are on small holder hanging in there with their cows, pet horses, Alpacas. One mile left I pass the school buses warming to carry our wondrous children to the lock down. I feel the twinge of guilt after all I am an accomplice to their miss eduction but now they are inventing themselves...
Going down hill and the dog wants to hurry and I want to avoid a fall. The world is lightening. It is afternoon in Egypt. The madmen are still in power, their guns and egos against the will of the people. The warm air of the kitchen is like a wave lifting me. Now the day will take shape.