Today hit minus eleven right out the door. I watched as motorists, late for work, clutched their half frozen cups of tea in one hand brandished ice scrapers like cardboard swords, to battle against the crystalline spread, masquerading as windscreens and side windows.
The day developed into a cool blue afternoon. Arriving home from work this evening, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at my neighbours cat. It teased and toyed with its own reflection in a glassy pool of frozen water. A much needed respite from a troubled day.
The sky, where there was once majestic cobalt, is now pale powder blue tincture, an elixir I wish to taste whole heartedly with the whole of my heart.
A hazy shade of wintery magnificence; Simon and Garfunkle were right.
Yet, as much as I am keen to get back to my social politics essay, the sunset teases my gaze westward. The slipknot grows tighter.
I have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and my heart is reluctant to beat incase it disturbs the fading crimson sunlight in her endeavor to slip gracefully beneath the horizon to be the dawn of a new day.
A sight I will never tire to see and loose myself in every time. A feeling that is never forgotten, grows with each experience.
I wonder with a smile as the horizon erupts glorious fire for an instant and is suddenly shrouded in shadows, shall I never be overwhelmed?
I forbid the melancholy chord in the back of my mind and stow it neatly filed under one word. Later.
A striking day that you want to describe to others. Undoubtedly it was memorable for you, and you’ve got that across. How now to take the next step?
Let’s assume you want to stay in prose, not poetry (for you could go that way instead). How would you have described this day in a conversation with a friend, that evening, say? Might it have been more hesitant, more groping for the wonder, less technicolour, less chocolate box? And thereby closer to an experience we could share?