rattling wind and snow
windowpanes 'twixt gloom and glow
radiators bump
Notes:
Lab almost got my haiku for today—that panicked feeling when everyone you ask seems to be also guessing about what's really going on, but guessing more quickly and more soundly. And yet it turned out well. (Grateful for people I know in that lab section...)
I spent four hours in the basement of the old student union at the writing center, and was blinded by the gusting snow when I came out. My Michigan-dwelling self was monologuing all day: "It's snow, guys; let's not overreact—snow is normal for February, and even eight or ten inches—well, it's impressive, sure, but not really anything to write home about." And then I had to walk through it and realized that—well, maybe I would write home about it. Although it's more the wind.
To be sitting in the solarium, well-aware of the wind for all the windows, listening to it howl and blow, doing the patient, painstaking work of Greek translation and chemistry problems by the yellow lamplight with no sound inside but the gentle hiss and thump of the radiators—is very pleasant. And there is homemade bread. And butter. It's a lovely evening.
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