Fog and Impermanence

The fog this morning reminded me of another me.  Like all things, he is gone.  With the exception of the foggy vision in my mind and those of others he touched, no one knows of him.  Remembering his time is not so good for the ego.  He was a handsome lad.  But not so peaceful.  He made the fog in his mind to obscure the fear of failure as well as that of success.  He didn't know that even with fog, the thousand year old moat, the city streets, the people in the invisible houses are still there.

Hasn't Been Much of a Winter

The weather's been extremely mild here.  February, the normally treacherous thing, was a study in temperance.  The temperatures stayed over the freezing mark and averaged early spring numbers.  People insisted on the tables being brought out into the market place and they've been using them.  The Stadtfuehrer reminded me of the lines from Faust about the Easter walk and compared it to our present situation.

If the Sun shines in the Winter, the people of Herford consider it a good enough occasion to sit outside and eat an ice cream.

That anecdote, and a cold that's lingered for weeks are all I've got to say for Winter this year.  There's just about enough material for a Haiku, but it wouldn't be very good.

Winter's flat
the grey reflected by the Winter Sun
ice cream is good.....

While I sit around the cafes reading and drinking coffee,  Russians march into the Crimea, Ukrainians man the barricades, and everyone else beats their drum, hoping to drown out the possibility of yet another clash of ideologies to be paid for with human blood. Where have all the flowers gone?