At the end of winter, new, strange, glints of light are catching my eye.
It’s a twixt time. Transitioning between the grey, black atmosphere of true winter and the clear blue yellow light of spring.
When you know, but can’t see, the maple sap is rising. The squirrels and birds seem to know. They are digging and beginning to sing.
All I know is that the light is different. Will it take?
The tricks that all these transitional states play upon one’s mind – as in the place between dreaming and waking, falling asleep.
I see these glints in unusual places, like below in the corner of a kitchen window.
Not so much the usual sunsets and panoramas, but in the details of artificial objects like office building glass, hallways, a bit of flooring.
My working class reflections of consciousness.
1. As If By Magic by Glenn Cardier fr: Stranger Than Fiction
2. Have You Met Miss Jones? by George Van Eps fr: Mellow Guitar
3. Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most by Betty Carter fr: The Audience
4. Bar Inglese by Marcos Valle fr: Jet-Samba