a single bee, scavenging a brown blade in the circular green. dragonflies flyby. birdsong jam from the surrounding treetops. early sunday afternoon and i am a circle to myself, buzzing. can your life be perfect as it is? is it ever perfect, your life? lifting windows, letting yes. red lashes flutter. if you're not, you're not, and you know that. just because you open the door... this is my twice a week appointment with the earth. the soup of the day was still nope. the owner says he cannot yet estimate the survival of his last decade, but he may have time. who knows?
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