I Wonder What I Mean
Summertime snow in the High Andes is an anachronism at best but only because summer is an alien concept here and now. Perhaps it’s always been. Summer, like spring or autumn or winter is a time of day or state of mind rather than an annual season. At least that’s the way it is today, and it was that way yesterday, and it’s been that way for all the yesterdays I can remember: who knows about tomorrows.
Still, seasons in the heart may be another thing, as they are in the soul, or in the mind, and most of all, in memory. So many summers and springs and autumns and winters resonate there, echoes casting shadows on todays.
Equatorial tides tend to be disturbing, so much mass spinning unaware there; or is it? I wonder what I mean.
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2011; all rights reserved