Thursday, August 28, 2008

Beige.

A lazy day falls through the panes and lights my journal page. Rain outside the window, small vanishing streaks caught in an instant against dark backgrounds. Drops sound off a tin roof, a deceiving drumroll. Between the two my mind is undecided on the effects of a walk in this rain, so I sit and move to other things. The crossword in front of me. A small clay colored pot of black coffee. A mug of the same grain. A silver teaspoon, untouched by a granule of sugar or a drying drop of bitter brown, is cradled in a saucer; its silversmithed edge shines with a pool of the sterling sky. My pen cap clicks on and off, I am stumped.

While I still grapple the truth , there is no place I need to be other than here. I am in Nepal and the Himalayas send a crackle through the air.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Wish I were there.
Auntie Cheryl