two cloths don't make a quilt

February 18th, same as last year, and the moon's out getting chased again. A low grumble is flowing like tire smoke from the unlatched windows of the basement. Eyes take a few hours to adjust to the dimness of the room, but when they do, there's nothing to see but the sound anyway. And it still groans on. A movement like a thousands flying spiders webs tweaks you on the nose and tears start to well up, aching eyelids slide open, and a new sound enters the room,.. and it's spinning- soprano,warble-modulating and slipping up and then down, until it finds it's place, in harmony with the rooms grumble, and even though you can't hear either of them, they're louder than ever.

(c) Dave Selby 2011