colors are things

robot-fairy-shadow-puppets
surrounding me,
giving me things.  so many things to look at.
they move the scenery, they give me more and more.
I understand now.
The colors Are the objects.
bring that back.  are you tangled?
So fucking busy.  These robot-angels, always moving the scenery around.
Who the fuck do I think I am?
I think I have a um, robot?  hahahaha!
busily bringing me things to look at.
trying to, anyway.
are you tangled?  what’s with you?
What’s with the tendrils?
I’m drowning.  No, I’m fine. It’s only color.
The colors are the thing.
Oh lovely.
Oh how lovely.
Perhaps I’ll just watch.
Oh where did they go?

In the bleak midwinter

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago

-Christina Rossetti, 1872

It snowed and the snow stuck for the first time this winter.  Yesterday the high temperature was nine degrees F.  I remind myself that this is not mid-winter.  Winter only started a week ago.