Winter can be rife with trickery. Deep belief that life this side of Heaven lasts forever proves false; lies and subterfuge. This brief moment in the sun would not last the drive’s duration as I bumped along River Road.
I passed over a number of potholes filled haphazardly as though the department of transportation saw them, hesitated and then rallying around for a brief moment, made a weak effort. I give those potholes about a week before they sink; disappearing.
Some fields were freshly turned over, glazing like melted caramel in the tricky sun. They will turn white and butter-creamy cold again before long. The weather is all smoke and mirrors this year.
I observed a hawk sitting in the field on a mound of dirt facing west; feathers moving gently in the wind. He’s watching the slight of hand; the falsehood of the climate and season.
I drove on and then suddenly on the right side of the road, there was a bright green overstuffed couch with one missing cushion. Tricks and lies. The furniture truck must have stopped on a whim and the driver and partner clambered out and sat down in the middle of the field to watch for more tomfoolery.
It’s all out there today amidst sun and flora and fauna and falderals.
I’m driving slowly this winter…
690 Saint Paul 