by Betsy Barnum
This morning there were rainbow sundogs around the sun over the river, mist swirling and rising from the black water between sheets of ice moving slowly on the winter current. Red/yellow light curving, sun still near the horizon so the rainbows appeared inside the river gorge, starting right in the water and illuminating the bare elms, oaks, cottonwoods and maples on both sides of the steep bluffs. The golden-rosy glow highlighted one tree at the top as if it were the place of the Holy Grail.
After six inches of snow yesterday, sky this morning wisped with mares' tails, some thin gray layers off to the south reflecting early sun in dazzling soft brightness. River, ever-flowing, shrouded in bright coiling mist and enticing visual attention with uncountable shades of silver/gray/black, moving water keeping the unceasing rhythm of its journey. Gasping cold wind on the bridge seemed part of the deep beauty of this enchanting river, the mighty being that holds the soul of this place (and mine).
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