Late In Winter


Snowdrops white-flare in sun: overcast they embrace a wistful prettiness.
The sky is gathering dark: into the cold pool of sky: clouds are beginning to dissolve.

We are working in a school while the old town hall hosts a musical production. It smells like soap; fake floral, somehow reassuring. Outside, the last winter month splices into spring. In here; the lunch benches, the climbing bars, the bold childish brushstrokes on thick paper, the wires that hang from the back of a stereo; that clean scent.

The last class gather in through the fire doors, in from the night.
It's snowing.


Comments

Geo. said…
1st photo looks like a central tree striding confidently through the forest, but the second one --the newsprint painting: tempera caked in Van Gogh generosity, green mittens rising to a purple shout-- has all the power of life ahead of it. Both photos are remarkably full of motion.
Suze said…
Who would have guessed fake floral soap would be reassuring? The spirit is subject to much ...
Lisa Southard said…
Hello folks- hoping I get to post this comment, having some storm related internet issues! Geo you are clever- the sense of motion is exactly what made me choose these pictures :-) Can't really figure why the soap smell is so pleasant, Suze, normally I loathe artificial scents: it's either a forgotten childhood moment or just the novelty of training somewhere that doesn't smell a bit stinky!

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