There is a window in the bare wall at the front of the classroom. The glass is covered with beads of ice, tiny raindrops which have frozen not long after coming to rest against the pane. They are like gleaming freckles partially obscuring my view of the world beyond the window glass. Many trees are framed by the window, unmoving. They are stripped of their green leaf-coverings except for the few patches of brown, dry leaves still clinging stubbornly to their branches. Now visible are the blotches of green-gray lichen hugging their crooked trunks, their boughs, and their smaller branches right up to their spindly fingertips. A layer of yesterday's snow still rests in their arms and around their feet. In one of the trees nearest me, a raven alights. His movement loosens some of the snow, causing it to fall to lower branches and to the ground like a miniature waterfall. The raven shakes his feathers and dances in the tree as he tries to get his footing. His beak opens and closes before he becomes still. Past the him and the trees, a gray-blue, mountain stands to touch the sky. My view of it is flanked by trees; only part of its curving form can be seen. The sky above the mountain can be glimpsed through the web of tree branches, as if the trees are forming windows of their own. It is a single, blank sheet of gray. The sun is not there. Against the dull sky, color suddenly appears. There is movement among the trees. A flag, white, blue, and red, unfurls slowly from its hiding place behind a trunk. It waves once, its bright stripes rippling. Stars peek at me through the window. Then, the flag returns to rest against its pole. Nearby, a splotch of black moves again in the trees: the raven. Discontent with his present perch, he jumps to a higher branch, his wings spreading slightly. Another bit of snow is dislodged and cascades to the ground. The raven turns in circles before lifting his wings and leaping into the air. He flies off right and out of the frame of the window.
No comments:
Post a Comment