Mid- April afternoon outside the Hermitage Museum

( flash non-fiction, from ussr journal)

Outside the Hermitage Museum, the river looked as if it had been blessed with tiny points of light-- chiseled like perfectly asymmetrical diamonds, drifting down the Russian river.

All those who would stop to gaze-- could not help but be carried along the murky gray green sheen of this river known as home.

Russian river vocalizes softly alongside the museum, home to several impressionistic paintings. The gathering of treasured art happened before the century turned itself on its own head.


Values of light blessings, and sacraments made sacred by a demure smile in the dark red square are sequenced by black birds against an opaque creme sky. Here, where secret languages are revealed, and warm hats secured-- for a stroll around the museum, mid- day.

Amidst a faint sun, a quick spiraling snow surprises strollers with large white shreds, and black and white speckling. I am reminded of black and white tv--black birds and white birds on the screen after hours. We watch snow melt on black hats and childrens' mittens.

Children are lined up obediently for the school bus, parked in between the lines.

~kate lamberg (c) '18