REFLECTIONS BY THE SNOW

Snow Storm blankets the east while the west sleeps inside the sun. Shed remains solitary out there on the distant lawn. Plants crowd the dinner table, thirsty for water in a time of winter. Bowl of fruit stands still on the island table, waiting to be picked for a desired meal in which all will partake. Kitchen is empty, Diana’s voice in the next room discussing her father’s travel spirit and health. Local news focuses on the weather, football statistics and possible outcomes. All decide to crowd the kitchen, speak on higher levels and silence the silence. Section B will predict our fate before the New Year. Chocolate cake encased in plastic is placed next to pottery that eludes definition. Needing to write a paper on ethnic cleansing and English Civil Wars. The sound of the heater breaks the quiet air in a house that bears no sign of heat. Glass and nature protect the surrounding walls of this room without wood. Two girls in a painting hide their faces, revealing only their backs and multicolored clothes. Suburban isolation. Urban confusion. Philadelphia is a city that missed a white Xmas by a matter of hours. Could a jacket on a chair experience neglect from an owner who is keen on feeling cold. A rough wind outside breaks against the shed, though that break goes unnoticed by most. Days before returning to Slovenia and its capital. De Florum Cultura and Les Jardins Modernes are parallel images on a shaded wall. The light mixes with the gaining plant, allowing spiked shadows to form a new painting on that wall. Is it not funny how Caesar began as a name of power in the Roman state and ended with a brand of salad dressing that is prime for the consuming good? That chocolate cake continues to taunt through the plastic holding, placing a decision before my eyes. A massive teapot faces the glass door, turning its back on empty cups screaming for hot water. Asian artistry dominates this table that resonates a clear view of a trees’ outcome. Saba is on the brink of a move, either to a grocery store in his apartment or an airport. NO MUSIC except a hairdryer. Saints upturned the Falcons last night, surprise on the face but the mind is content for now Giants have become a dying breed on the East Coast. Thoughts drift to the West Coast, a land blanketed by SUN, never in need of winter coats or unexpected blizzards. The skin is dry, a result from too much light devoured by the winter night. A crooked lamp leans to the left, leaving that extending form of nature without a shield. Reaching the minds wall and needing to break it down and allow thoughts to move freely throughout borders. Staring at a plain chair, one that is void of human interest. Sun now reaches the naturalistic couch, a piece of furniture that has stayed along the path of a child and his age. Time mounts an offensive on this suburban house while streets continue to bear the mark of shovels and tires. Red wine with heat and spices cure the walking blues that takes hold on the streets and alleyways of Ljubljana in January. Budapest is in need of an American who resembles a mix between Clark Gable and John Wayne! Words should crack the sky over Europe, allowing its citizens to revel in true thought and put down the smoke for a minute. Greece, the birthplace of democracy holds a part of my flesh as I scrapped a way through its cities and towns, falling under waves and resting under mountains. No regret for the trips made and those set aside for future plans, instead Ill remain in the present. Calculate the risk of missed opportunities and then clear the mind to blank, remember no regrets! Fields of wine and Redwood trees collect inside the mind, pushing for a decision on where to stake my claim on this EARTH. Creation comes with the will to act and setting aside the idea of perfecting everything. Friends from an island experience populate those western cities and are calling my bones to force a movement. Rainfalls, gray skies and greeting arms from a modeling smile are what await a move to the northwest. New York offers little except a prospect of walking a city in the midst of millions. Sushi rolls, fresh fish, scattered islands and temples designed to inspire thought capture the imagination of the mind for the Far East. Replay the song and follow the chords so as to submit all senses gracefully. Snow begins to melt. Trees continue to breath. Items made by human hands become lost in the vines of encasing truth, a truth that resembles a forested cathedral. Technical devices and lighted candles perform for the masses of Times Square as surfers in the Pacific hide in the barrel. VIVA LA REVOLUTION! Sleep has left its mark on my sight, never fully leaving and awaiting its next cycle of conquest. Six years will have passed since feet touched California soil and still a trace of position can be felt in the toes. Markets and festivals explode across European capitals that know soon the seasons will shift. Acoustic sounds penetrate the blood and permit a gesture of musical faith. Greek cup holders show a design found at Knossos. Nails rip into the keyboard, not seeking a tear in the flesh but rather a tear in the minds walled estate. Voices of business can be heard in the next room and the stairs creak under the pressure of noiseless intensions. Spain will be the climax of my European drifts and wanderings. A road trip out west is what the blood desires when all ends on the European continent, when nothing else remains except the need to view the Pacific once more in the flesh of a 26 year old that is ready to begin life as a graduate! What city will be mine to claim for an east coast drifter? What career will be mine to embrace as a man in search of an American purpose? These are questions that at the moment can wait until my feet board a plan exiting the Old World and wait to reclaim the New.