On my way to work today on the Reseroir Ave i was looking up as i always do for the signals of the heavens.Just last week i would see sun trying to peer out in the morning now because of the day light saving time sun is already out and in a cold November morning where frost had set on wind shields as well as grass.Both visible by the frost which makes it impossible to see through the car windows and need to turn on the car and Waite for the frost to melt. Nothing seems to help not even running the wind shield wipers.A better man would have a better wind shield wiper fluid to help clean windshields in a hurry.But i have not paid enough attention to it since last year. A small nosel on the wind shield disappeared in a previous snow storm. It is not that i did not try,i even went to auto parts stores, just as it happens to not very persistent among us even after trying two auto parts stores i was not able to get it as they were out of it.So that is the story of my inefficiency.
Ah i am writing about this high far away quarrel of these two passionate lovers(my assumption).They seemed to be sniping at each other .It seemed to me from the distance that they were in turn gnawing at each other .From distance these black clad lovers seemed not to care about my presence or any others presence,may be they did not realise even their own existence.They seem to fall and then rise and chase each other like only two warriors or lovers on hormonal rush or anderalin rush can do.It was their continuous sniping that caught my attention.Otherwise who notes or cares for any couple walking near each other in unison.I surely would not write today.If you ask me if i saw any couple today on the way i could not tell you one thing i saw.
Now as i was driving they fell out of my view and left me thinking about them.Were they just two crows not in a mating dance just fighting over some crumbs of food? Were they some sort of small hawks practicing their attack techniques.I wonder were they two lovers nibbling and nudging each other in billions of year old ritual of mating where distance between love and war is diminished and out chaos comes unity and the words poets had written for millenniums to capture.
I come to work and write about it.Am i not lucky to observe all this and weave my own web of fantasy.
I am adding a link to Robert Brownins poem lovers quarrel.