Unkindness

An unkindness of ravens visited New England this winter and though there were also gaggles of geese and herds of happy pub crawlers afoot, it was the unkindness that struck a chord when they struck the region.  Sometimes unkindness can become a habit on grey days.  When the sun is short lived and the tasks at hand seem burdensome and overwhelming, it is easy to desire a hunkering down, alone.  People can weary you.  Kindness can seem a tax on the already costly price of doing-what-needs-doing. And so it has been for the past few weeks. And so I wait for the first whirls of a promised blizzard to remind me of a dole of doves. And I hope with minutes more sunshine each day that my task list stops mastering me and my barbaric yawp finds its sound.  To Africa.