Observation - July 3rd, 2018, Tuesday

Kitty stretches her front paw

cool-light bends through waving glass
sparrow cuts past my plane of view

opposite the window pane

it is quiet in the morning
with coffee, warm ceramic in my hand

a breeze on my neck from the black plastic fan

 

Observation - June 3rd, 2018, Sunday

the Twins are tied in the bottom of the eighth

 

the scent of cut grass drifts in through the window

my lady is out front pushing the mower

I am typing to the rhythm of its spinning-wheel and rattle

 

the hum of traffic flows down Bryant

Kitty is on her bench watching the action

 

the Twins exit the eighth without advancing

 

the sun is bright in the cool afternoon

Observation - May 3rd, 2018, Thursday

the dark is breaking

outside the window

a blue-line stretches

across the horizon

 

spring came

to warm the house today

 

the hum of the fan

mutes the drone of  

TV and traffic

 

Kitty purring, my lady sleeping

breathing, in the early morning

bare minutes before her rising

 

tree buds popping

bright green shoots

the Earth respiring

beneath a blanket of dew

 

Observation - April 3rd, 2018, Tuesday

everything is covered in snow

poos of slush and a thick sheet of ice

clinging to the ground beneath it

 

treacherous April

 

cold seeping through the window frame

plows scraping the asphalt-street

rattling the bones of my building

     the green lawn is buried in white

 

steadfast Robin minds the nest

 

Observation - March 3rd, 2018, Saturday

my tawny-tabby kitty is talking to me

little bursts of sound like a baby mumbling

     crying

it is quiet in the house, still

she thinks it is well past time

for everyone to be up and moving

she cannot read the clock

     she gives no thought to the calendar

she does not know it’s Saturday

 

 

Observation - February 3rd, 2018, Saturday

it is dark in the glow of the computer screen

the lamp by my desk has gone out

I am writing, I am typing 

the commentary on the TV is of treason

the orange-menace pulling the curtain from its rungs

un-draping his naked ambitions

the fragile-façade of a crumbling democracy

American autocracy, it seems

we are governed by Hades kleptocrats

thieving like orange-rats scurrying for crumbs

my cat sits on her blue chair

bored of playing string

I can hear the soft purr of her breathing

thinking, what short work of those plutocrats

if she could 

the neighbor’s door opens across the hall 

someone exists the building, to start a car in the cold

plane descending to the airport, engines roaring

the city is full of revelers, the Super Bowl is here tomorrow 

Observation - January 3rd, 2018, Wednesday

the radiators in my new apartment do not clang and bang

they are filled with hot water, not steam

I hear the water flowing into them, in a low-pitched rush

as the boilers work to beat the cold

air seeping through the windowsills

 

Kitty is curled into her blanket

head in paws on her stuffed chair

 

the quiet is broken by the sound of the neighbor's toilet

my lady is tossing in her sleep...coughing

    struck-ill by a January virus