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Show CHRYSALIS pAGE 24! By mid-afternoon the valley whitens under a dusting of the first snowfall of the season. The troops eat, and stuffed to the ears, they march from the table . Papa winds his watch and lets the little children hear it tick. Mark switches off the lights. Dusk comes early now. We sit together, haloed with visions and glowing fragments of a day almost lost to comprehension, deep inhalations and drowsy eyelids. The baby wakens, nurses, and sleeps again in my arms. Outside the storm continues. Inside all the light is soft and flickering. Mark says, "All I need now is a little egg nog, a little music, and a lot of lovin'." He smiles a delighted smile, picks up his guitar and plays, singing: "The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat: They took some honey and plenty of money wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, and sang to a small guitar, 'Oh, lovely Pussy, Oh Pussy my love, what a beautiful Pussy you are! , i i M From the darkening window I see sunflowers along the roads |
