*

What a calm grey morning. Snow is falling in stripes, a milky white curtain separates the distant black trunks of the trees, the falling snow lies upon the dark branches, white upon black, black upon white.   The black raven figures sit on the twisted branches of an old acacia tree. If only the snow could turn into manna and all the birds сoul eat to repletion. What a joyous day for them it would be.

Kyiv                                        

I was looking through the stars at the eternity and the eternity was looking at me...