flotsam

Saturday

Sipping coffee on the porch, the blessing of caffeine, warm liquid a balm to cold body, the chill after the heat wave. The splashing of water falling, the endlesss loop of too-green water, I will clean the filters today and treat it but so far to no avail; nothing seems to contain that. Yard work performed alone means comedy on Pandora, laughter to keep me unafraid of the illusions of terrors. I am indoorsy; I don’t like all the life out here, except when I am safely behind glass. When I have done what I will until help arrives, I sit with coffee, and turn off music to read. The Handmaid’s Tale. Dystopian, powerful as I recall, while subscribers watch the new series I will reread the book. Gray skies and chill, the soft murmur of Saturday traffic, birdsong and splashing water. 

Have a good day.