On the way to work, the Minnesota River marshes are lit with
nostalgia. Bright reflections of sunlight and blue sky recall the
high days of summer.
On the way home, the wind tries to smooth out the wrinkled waters,
shivering gray. Two perfect porcelain egrets stand motionless,
together, alone. The sun, almost white, shines through rags of
clouds wadded up dry or spread in wet gray sheets. The landscape
wants to be black and white (foreshadowing of winter?), flashing
silver-grey underbellies of cottonwood leaves. A spotty shower –
cold, wet drops and a biting wind – makes me hungry.