Musings

The days and nights fold together when I stay warmly wrapped in fleece. No sharp delineations.

The gray landscape turns white as precipitation falls. The black pavement has ridges of white encroaching on the lanes of travel. The noisy plow comes through to crush the rising mounds.

Morpheus has been on my mind since yesterday when I looked up morphine. I saw his naked body pictured with Iris, his female companion. His skin looked as soft and smooth as hers. Both their bodies curved. His reclined while she stood aside.

Then my mind turned to morphemes, morphology, and butterflies. Form and function are always holding hands.

These days my thoughts move around with no direction until they come to rest. My voice is giving way to my listening ear. My daughter seems intent on interruption until I yield.

Darkness falls outside. Still I hear the crunching sound of blades intent on keeping clear an open path.