the weatherwall
May 11, 2008 at 18:23 PST
The weatherwall, across the 45th parallel. Nacreous, meniscus, gleaming, 6 miles high. Forcing the weather into chutes like cattle for the slaughter. I hated to see it. I wanted to bring down those walls, but how do you bring down something which has withstood all efforts of man and nature for untold thousands of years? We didn't even know who built the wall and all our efforts were in vain against it. We couldn't even make the merest dent.
The frozen stars of the north descended in the night without our even looking about it. When we woke up they had impacted in all the streets and there would be no morning commute. We cheered, we sheered and chivered, because the stars were very cold, made of ice, and they had begun to melt. starwater rushed through the streets and made us all who were caught in it turned into music.
The wind flung itself against the city that had intervened between the wind and his desination. The city that had interdicted the wind's efforts to date. Winds from time immemorial have sought the sunnier climes, and when we of the earth humped up ramparts and crags to check the winds' progress thence, the winds became despondent and hurled themselves off the tallest scarps, landing only as the dryest zephyrs in the soft air of east Coloroda.
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