The gifts of God are small, yet they are in a steady supply, like beads of crystal falling from a torn rosary, and endless streaming throughout our lives. Miracles, on the other hand, are in-your-face and somewhat rare.
I woke up and today was September 9, not the 13th, and looking out my window I saw globes of glittering lights, some whole, some broken into dawn-fire-reflecting shards, and wondered "What are these things?"
I said it over and over, louder and louder.
Were they those beads of crystal? What is it that I see on the tree branches?
As I got out of bed - I assume I was still dreaming at this point - I realized it was an ice storm, and ice covered the tree branches like a crystalline glove wrapped around their mystic fingers. An ice storm! On September 9th!
On the river, there were floes of ice, and a few polar bears and penguins enjoying the climate change. It was warming as the morning drew on. The neighbors were pointing at the animals. One guy got a Bobcat loader and began building a stone and sand bridge towards the ice. It would change the dynamics of the waves breaking along our shore, and I yelled so at him, but he ignored it, drawn on with curiosity or maybe a feeling of religion to reach the ice which was decreasing in size rapidly now.
All the lands were the usual river lands of my dreams: the Canadian shore across from me, the hidden kingdoms of the East where the sun came from. There were reeds and cattails and grasses. There were no boats, but if there were, they would have skipped rather than sailed... I knew that.
I have been concerned about beach erosion - real life - and that explains some of it. The yesterday-winds down by the Clinton River were up in the tops of the trees, which gave the leaves a tenor quality, and the first leaves tinged with yellow fell here and there.
I am still waiting for "ice" or diamonds to festoon the trees outside my domicile.
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