Bolsheviks
Published November 16, 2005 | 
Winter time winds blue and freezin’
Comin’ from northern storms in the sea
Love has been lost, is that the reason?
Trying desperately to be freeCome with me dance, my dear
Winter’s so cold this year
And you are so warm – j. morrison
The first snow of the year started off as heavy rains ripping the last leaves of autumn from the trees. As we walked along the wooded path the sky closed in around us. The clouds became heavier until they seemed to sink to the earth under their own weight. The sun made way. Darkness came quickly and the air grew thick and cold. Soon all we could see were the glistening tracks of raindrops flickering in the flashlight lens. We marched on in the darkness. Our boots crashed down on miniature lakes causing casualty and flood along their tiny shores.
Most subtly at first a few rain drops began to seek their own paths. Changing speeds and direction, swirling and dancing in the Eveready spotlight. In time, not to be left out, others joined in. Only the brave & disenchanted at first. The ones who didn’t much mind what others would think. In time small gatherings of defectors donned white coats and held angular symbols aloft in the light as they danced. They sang in voices too small to hear. Even as their numbers grew, their defiance was drowned out by the march of the linear crowd. But as we walked along others soon fell out of line entranced by this new way of being. A flood gate was beginning to open. With each footfall change was inevitable. By the time we reached the car the dancers and spinners were in the majority. A revolution was won. Society had changed and now the crazies were in power. Winter had come.
-d
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