Ice, Custard, Happiness, Amen.

House faces West, so early-day Sun climbs up back, and late-day Sun tumbles down front.

No one stoop-sits in cold months. Hands buried deep, hoodies and mittens pulled tight; Monks passing between prayers.

But sun re-shines and Vibrance spreads anew. Roy G. Biv comes out of retirement and clear-cool-blue rends Winter’s tabernacle veil as far as Eye can see.

Eyes see further when Sun re-shines and Wind kicks out the bullshit. Blue be clear and cool, and brick be Red.

My eyes record Sun and Wind, Blue and Red.

Long morning. Slow. Funeral tomorrow.