A COLLECTION OF RHYTHMIC PROSE AND POETRY
"The reader forms an attachment to the author/narrator as the parts meld into a story. The majority of the work is one - to two-page vignettes that create almost a novel in verse... Absorbing, an other...
They tell me it is cold outside. They tell me I must not go out. I hear a sound ...yes, ...yes, I guess that is what it is called.
I asked the nurse today what it was. She told me the wind. She said you cannot see it. I thought then it would be useless for me to look out the window if I could not see the wind. I could hear it. It had a sound. I had never heard anything like it before. The nurse left the room.
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I stepped from the bed and drew the curtains aside. There was darkness on the other side of my window. I was in the light. I looked and outside I saw snow. It was white and the wind whipped it up and over the banks, in and around frozen bodies that were parked cars. The trees shook fiercely and they waved at me. They waved into my window. The lampposts leaned and whirled. I thought they too were alive.
I smiled and the wind sucked at the ground, froze in a minute and pushed icy cuts through stinging air. There were no people in the bleak parking lot. There were only frozen bodies that looked like cars.
Only the wind and the trees and the snow moved. The cars were cold and they did not move. The parking lot was frozen over and it did not move.
