Sunday 23 January 2000

Morning snowscape

Pic of the day: The light comes. Far away, on the other side of the river. Dawn comes, turning everything to gold with a touch. Here may be shadow and winter's cold, but it will not last forever. The light comes.

Sun day

My voice is rusty. Years of solitude did not improve it. Yet I cannot keep it from singing, songs from my childhood. We used to sing, I and the river, as it crashed down from the mountain. We did not sing the same tune, and I never learned to sing the same tune as those around me. Yet sing I must, for my heart sings in me. Alone, where I am free, where I am me.

***

Years ago, I saw a billboard. "Life is too short to cook mashed potatoes." Is that the problem? Then are we perhaps to cook mashed potatoes in eternity?

***

The sunbeam made a pool of golden warm light on the floor. What a waste, when there was not a cat to curl up in it. But the sun is large enough, not only for all the cats in the world, but for all the cats that aren't here either.

***

In a hundred years, I will be forgotten from the Earth. But children will sing, and cats will purr, when the sun shines on a winter day.

My stomach feels a bit better today!


Yesterday <-- This month --> Tomorrow?
One year ago

Visit the Diary Farm for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.


I welcome e-mail: itlandm@netcom.no
Back to my home page.