From both ends
My day starts early enough that I sometimes catch the sun rising. Today, I left home while the light was in its first colour shifts. We had a light dusting of snow through the night and my prints were the first, from my own front doorstep, out the lane, down the road to the walkway, across and over to the bus shelter. No dogs, or rabbits, or the bicycle track that leaves me wondering how often the rider falls over on the ice.
I spend a lot of time trying to read where ice is hiding, since the city doesn’t appear to have much budget for sanding the streets and sidewalks. This morning I could put trust in the new snow cover to provide traction. No wind, no traffic. A single pigeon that landed in the centre of the street, realized its mistake and continued on with that odd whistling sound from the wings.
The day passed.
Now we’re fifteen hours further along; still dark outside. If I didn’t have a window in my office I might be suspicious that the sun was on a break down in Florida. The air is much colder, and the street is now bare again. My path home is a mirror image of early morning, with the exception that I’m now tired again. I’ve seen the day from both ends.
