rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

No More Mister Nice Days

The few warm days not only made flowers bloom, they also made the cats begin shedding. Portia sheds all over the house, and when I go outside the feral cats rub against my legs, and I take their dislodged hair back into the house with me. That probably accounts for my sneezing, but I don't know what accounts for my yawning. Energy no longer has any interest in me. It probably considers me a sink hole into which it vanishes without a trace, and thus avoids me. So I yawn and doze and then a sneeze wakes me and I brush away some cat hair and yawn some more. So it goes.

The return to winter is going to be abrupt and intense. Tomorrow it will be cold and there will probably be rain. Tuesday it will be colder still and will surely rain and will probably snow. The low is supposed to get down to 19 degrees Tuesday night. There could be more rain, and possibly more snow, later in the week. But then one never knows. It was supposed to be cooler today than yesterday, but it was warmer. Still, this could be the last mild evening for a while and I'm reluctant to pass it indoors. There's half a moon shining and the air smells of pine trees and fresh grass, and the frogs are croaking. I'm going to go enjoy it for a while before dinner.




Sunday Verse



The Niagara River


by Kay Ryan


As though
the river were
a floor, we position
our table and chairs
upon it, eat, and
have conversation.
As it moves along,
we notice—as
calmly as though
dining room paintings
were being replaced—
the changing scenes
along the shore. We
do know, we do
know this is the
Niagara River, but
it is hard to remember
what that means.

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