Budding from the cracks of disappointment and out of the crevices
of a dreamless sleep comes a new day. A day that could be shot to
hell - or a day that could be something extraordinarily grand.
What is it that we want from our existence? The trees fold up their
patio umbrellas of leaves for another season and the ground
becomes stiff and rigid. Soft dirt pathways now feel more like the
surface of the moon.
My cat stares out the window and sizes up the day in a manner
that I wish I could interpret and learn from. I think she knows
many things I do not. Her eyes close and open - she fades in and
out of consciousness.
For a moment, the sun widens - and as fast as I type this, it siphons
out. Banks account drain. Joy follows pain. Coffee shirt stain.
