ballad: a male duck

i returned yesterday from a little trip up to idaho with a friend and her parents for thanksgiving. we didn't have internet at the cabin, so i'm a little late with what i'm about to post, but maybe not... because i'm not really posting about what i'm thankful for, although i am thankful for what i'm about to write.

during the last leg of our car ride to the cabin, i was listening to fleet foxes and looking out the window. maybe inspired by the music, i started putting words to what i saw as i was dozing off. black velvet cows speckled the snow-white field brushed into rows like a freshly combed zen garden. the daytime moon hung in the sky like a semi-frozen ice cube; i wanted to reach up and pinch it to break free the water inside. blackbirds perched atop barren branches. floating swans with heads bent, upside-down teacups on a looking glass. and then i realized... an idea for a children's book. content and with my fill of gazing, i yawned, making fleet foxes play a bit out of tune.

"i was following the pack
all swallowed in their coats
with scarves of red tied 'round their throats
to keep their little heads
from fallin' in the snow
and i turned 'round and there you go
and, michael, you would fall
and turn the white snow red as strawberries
in the summertime"

i hope everyone had a lovely thanksgiving, with or without the turkey or family. there's a lot to be enjoyed in our metaphor world.