Road Grime Beauty

As the cars drove by, over puddles of melted snow and road grime, all I heard was the sound of their tires passing over endless stretches of de-icing salt. I closed my eyes and the sound transformed itself. It was no longer a day in between the months of winter and those of spring. The interim had become summer... and that noise, capable of making shoulders cringe, had become sand pouring down the metal shaft of a slide at a small park. I wondered how many other sounds of winter have the ability to make one remember summer... especially in the frigid surroundings of the city.

Later days, more gravel grinding into reminisced glory...

0 comments:

Post a Comment