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Thursday |
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| It goes from summer to winter here in one day, morning grey, burnt candle and incense stick, dark mornings, the light sensitive electric bird clock whispers its 8 o'clock call, song sparrow with not much to say and the cat bats my chin for a food refill wanting out to watch the traffic but the balcony door stays closed, it's too cold, and with the dark and muffled cars it's easy to slip and slide half asleep halfway to lunch and when you finally do step outside the wet leaves smell good and are slow to change, fewer airhorns of boats and the bells of the drawbridge are silent most of the day because everyone's gone home or gone away but like the clouds I'm here to stay. | |
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