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.
12 February 2014 at 04:08
Suze said…
Who would have guessed fake floral soap would be reassuring? The spirit is subject to much ...
12 February 2014 at 18:41
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!
13 February 2014 at 00:17
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