February 28th, 2002

caillebotte_man at his window

The Hour Before Dawn

In the hour before dawn, a dog barks.
In the hour before dawn, a door closes.
In the hour before dawn, headlights flash out from a distant mountain road.
In the hour before dawn, a cat prowls.
In the hour before dawn, a jet flies north in silence, its lights blinking.
In the hour before dawn, something rustles in the bushes.
In the hour before dawn, the whine of a logging truck heading down the mountain carries a mile or more.
In the hour before dawn, the single streetlight on the next street shines on the empty grey pavement.
In the hour before dawn, someone turns in their sleep and sighs.
In the hour before dawn, the light of the westering moon reflects from the insulators on the utility poles and from the wind turbine slowly turning on the roof of the house across the street with a wink, wink, wink.
In the hour before dawn, the sky fades from darknes to deep blue.
In the hour before dawn, the silence of my room is broken by the clicking of my keyboard.
In the hour before dawn, I will at last go to sleep.
caillebotte_man at his window

Wind

Strong, cold gusts of wind are blowing tonight, and the lights are flickering. I'll have to shut Sluggo down soon, since the power supply here is very unstable in a windstorm. The tops of the ponderosas are rocking back and forth and the gate to the back yard has come unlatched, and the gate is banging with each gust. There is a lot of static electricity in the air, too. My cats have gotten shocks on their ears and noses when they have tried to nuzzle me. Poor kitties. Wind upsets them. I am rather enjoying it, myself. As long as the power remains on and no reees come crashing through the roof, I find the wind invigorating. Oh, right- and as long as my cable doesn't go out. Must see Letterman.