the light is soft in the morning
the house is quiet…and the city as
well
people have left town for the
holiday-coming
it is Sunday morning, there is
parking on Aldrich
the birds are talking to each
other
my lady is still asleep behind the
bedroom door
Kitty is in the window watching
the wind
waving through the bright green leaves
of the wisteria
the scent of gunpowder lingers in
the air
the residue of revelry from the witching hour
