The smell of hospitals in winter,
And the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters but no pearls…
—Adam Durtiz, “A Long December”
The sky is creamy blue. The sunlight has turned the tops of the leaves gold, but the heat has softened to 70°, so we just might be changing seasons. The dapples across the yard, across the blinds, and on my worktable are the kind of light and dark that make me smile.
So I don’t know why I started singing “A Long December” with my morning coffee.
Something I wrote when I was 15-going-on-16:
Who is responsible
for handing out darkness?
What in my soul
chooses the weather in my brain?
does it almost always
I’m glad I’m no longer that age. I’m really glad my brain-weather is more like southern California’s now.
So that when clouds arrive unexpectedly, I can pause, and study: the prevailing winds, the humidity, the presence of storms further out… or the lack thereof.
If I learn anything/if there’s anything to learn, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, sing this as well:
When I wake up in the morning, love
And the sunlight hurts my eyes
And something without warning, love
Bears heavy on my mind
Then I look at you
And the world’s alright with me
Just one look at you
And I know it’s gonna be
A lovely day
—Bill Withers, “Lovely Day”