|Fallen Giants (standard:other, 174 words)|
|Author: Finn McKool||Added: Feb 18 2003||Views/Reads: 2048/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|This weekend's icestorm in Lexington, KY.|
Lexington is encased in glass. The cars, the houses, the grass. All of it. But especially the trees and the electric wires. The trees, weighted down by their new beauty, bow and sweep the earth. They snap and collapse and topple to the ground, like dying crystal giants, in the throes of one beautiful death. We ants scurry below, dodging their limbs, their torsos. They rend the earth. They crush the cars and the houses and the people. Some of us die with them. Left behind is scattered diamonds of shattered ice, scattered diamonds of shattered glass. Sticks, twigs, chimneys, columns, and telephone poles lie in their wake. They cut off our heat and our light trying to make us notice them and their fantastic death shrouds. Meanwhile I watch my friend and his love huddle in front of the fire. I have only regret and hope to wrap around me because she's not here to huddle with me and wouldn't if she were. That and a frozen mozzeralla stick cooked over a candle. Tweet
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