Joe in Wicker Chair
Birdsong: “Buja, buja, buja”
“Rightchere, rightchere, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right”
Delicate, pink open-faced prairie rose bloomed when I wasn’t watching – and the first Gloriosa Daisy.
Buzzing Wood Bees jostle.
Two birds call to each other with a sound like a soft ratcheting.
Cool breeze. It will grow slowly today into a mighty wind. But for now, it’s mercifully gentle.
Cats sitting about, waiting to be fed. A mamma, who usually keeps to herself, rubs against my leg.
Dogs lounging in wicker chairs on porch; in the shady grass.
One stirs and alarms a cat, who races across the yard.
A soft “cheep, cheep.”
A loud “cheep, cheep.”
Dueling twittering songs.
The Mockingbird starts her outlandish profusion.
The screen door creaks softly as the breeze blows it open just an inch, enticing the cats.
Bright orange Cosmos.
The soft whoosh of the wind in the lush leafing of the Hackberry.
I have to abide in this for awhile,
to get in touch with the Loving Something
that creates and connects; Something
that we’re all apart of,
less I lose track of what life is really about.
