Waking the Beast

First Snowfall

First Snowfall

Snow fell over swords of grass

making a mottled, pre-dawn blanket of white and dark.

It won’t last long.

Stored heat in the driveway already melted some of it.

Snowfall portends winter and the end of autumn work.

We turn indoors to the somnolent beast within.

The 2016 general election was a pisser.

Almost no one outside my immediate family and friends talked in public about politics before the election. Now… colleagues and denizens of the county are unpleasant, gossipy and intolerant. Where did that turn in attitude originate?

It’s easy to blame presidential candidates, politicians and corporate media, and many do. It’s not that simple. Our discontent comes from the unsettling nature of life in the post Reagan era. The reality of it hits hard as social fabric, woven with progressive ideas, unravels.

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds that low’r’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang’d to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag’d war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, — instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, —
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

~ Richard III, Act I, Scene I, A street in London

Right now the country could use a good Plantagenet-era revolt — like the one in 1381 — to check the excesses of the coming shit storm of governance. By all accounts, there is a growing will to resist and take action. We wait and watch as skies darken despite approaching dawn.

Inside a beast is awakened. Once groggy and listless, now restless and wondering whether Robartes’ vortex has begun to narrow.

Given time and vigilance, it will.

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