I let down green shade behind blue chair. Grey-brown cat stirs looking out window, steps through purple tent near white canvas bag under iron-legged table.
This is life on thursday morning.
White dog and brown dog in dooryard.
Egg and toast remains drift on plates in metal basin sink.
I read obituaries the ages of whom are my age or younger.
Every ailment is deadly.
On walk this morning at Still,Marbles we do our periodic enthuse about it being a final stay place for the dying, an interim practice place for the meditative, a beginning consciousness place for the contemplative.
As much of the world sniggers with political deviousness or inflamatory aggression -- we prefer to encircle a moribund property with imaginative thought.
Two cats on blue futon close eyes and take their rest.
