A photo of early morning life after the call for the office being closed due to winter weather. Snow drifts and Bach cleft with Tanzania Peaberry, medium roast, and the rest of the day not to bridge out much beyond this. Only minor substitutions with respect to which room and the varying of some minor indoor comforts that can momentarily peak attention. Outside (if one were to venture) stirs a locale with a howling wind that has turned the usual complacency of snow against us, nature’s misstep ahead of work in West Michigan to remind who and the what that always follows behind. While ultimately it will all rest to where it will, her deistically termed motives remain hidden from our daily plans and choices. And with my being neither physicist nor snowplow driver, if it weren’t for the craft of imaginative drama and all of its churlish gestures, at times I could almost become bored in this lifelong lobby with the unknown. Still, the back stepped panorama, the height of disappearance, the lifting presence of light, the black which descends calm to the flower, whether frozen within its bulb or growing into color, as the next breath that is taken and followed by another.

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