An Odd Wind
The cool wind stirs the bud-less tress, its sound is unfamiliar and hollow. The cats patrol the house as the freon cycles in the refrigerator. Woodpeckers chat as they wait to feed. A rolling whoosh of synthetic against crude slowly increases then dies away.
Winter litter covers the yard but that doesn’t stop the crocus. One cat lithely ascends the stairs as another jumps off the kitchen counter. These are the sounds I am accustomed to. I moved back into our dining room and now sit near windows at the far end of the table; from here my view is best.
My wife is away for the week and I tried sitting in the office at the desk I made for her but it doesn’t suit me. I prefer the old library table with a walnut veneer and a comfortable oak chair. I do not miss the rumblings of the furnace and it’s too early for the air conditioner. It’s settled without being too quiet.
The easel and its painting patiently awaiting my return.
