A Blinding Glimmer of Hope

I was met this morning by a sky overtaken by the strange, unnatural color of clear, clean water. Cast away was its usual cloak of soul-suffocating grays and grays. And through the trees, a burst of light and piercing brightness from some foreign beacon from high above the frozen world seared my eye marbles and rendered my sight nearly worthless, as  if I was just waking from a three-day vodka bender. And also a vampire.

And I didn’t even care.

winter_sun

The old ones call it the sun, and speak of it in hushed tones, reverent whispers. They say it will bring warmth and can chase away the cast of ice that covers everything.

Sure, the reflection of this “sun” off the blanket of whiteness all around us might make it nearly impossible to see, but by the Meeps of Holy Beaker, if it means I might once again see the actual yard in my front yard, well, I’m willing to spend a few days blinking back the watery tears and staring at my feet.

There’s a new shadow down there to keep me company, anyway.

Pud’n

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One thought on “A Blinding Glimmer of Hope

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