March

[rejectomorph]

Afternoon was splendidly gray, the shadowless world a bowl of pearly light, the sky a marble dome where crows flew. As sunset arrived, the west grew bright, drenching evening in gold, and a few clouds differentiated themselves from the overcast, drifting forms at first white, then pink. One looked like an immense white bird gliding on wings that were slightly asymmetrical. As I watched, it dissolved, passing east on swift wind unfelt here below. The last woodpeckers have now ceased their chatter, and frogs begin to croak the arrival of night. March is at last being March.

No, the computer did not arrive. If it isn't here by the time I wake up tomorrow, I'll call to see what is holding it up. If they don't really want to sell me one, I'll find another vendor.