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Showing posts with label Window. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Window. Show all posts

Thursday, March 5, 2020

Observation - March 5th, 2020, Thursday

It is 5:27 in the morning

Kitty is yowling for attention

She is unhappy with the food in her dish

She wants something different

Something fresh

She doesn’t want the supplement I give her

To strengthen her joints, and her back legs

She is seventeen and getting arthritic

She wants to play

She cannot jump anymore

She does not like to play string

While laying on the floor

I lift her to the window

So she can watch the dark street

Sunday, January 5, 2020

Observation - January 5th, 2020, Sunday

The sky is bright, light
Blueish-gray, matted by clouds
Thin as wisps of frost

There are a few leaves
Dried things that cling to the trees
Flutter in the breeze

Outside my window
Dark limbs stretched across the pane
The old glass cascades

It bends the soft light
Waving in its fluid state
Windows on the world

Monday, December 3, 2018

Observation - December 3rd, 2018, Monday


The world outside my window is covered in ice and snow

We are plunging into winter, and it is cold

I woke up parched, with the radiators drying out the house

Running hot all day, non-stop

Kitty is curled up in a ball on the couch

She slept under my arm all night

She is complaining about the snowy-world

With all the rabbits and the squirrels having gone to rest

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Observation - November 2nd, 2017, Thursday

At 4:00 am the street outside my window

Is bright with electric light, Bryant Avenue

The refrigerator is noisy, click, rattle, hum

The floors have a different squeak to them

Deeper along the joists, a bus rolls by #4

Kitty is on her blanket, taking in her view

The wind in the maple blowing, leaves

Gathered by the stairs, there are no rabbits

On Bryant, but there are chip monks

With their striped fur, they are sleeping

She is waiting for them to wake

Saturday, July 2, 2016

Observation - July 1st, 2016, Friday


I can hear the wet-clinging strokes of the paint roller.

The back and forth, the up down; I can hear the spreading of the new white, covering the old white, yellowed with age.

She is painting the bedroom, while I listen to news, and write, and prepare for work.

My cat is watching the city from atop the couch; in the picture window.

Sunlight brushes the lilies in the boulevard.

A cool wind is blowing through the peonies, the dark green leaves are just bushes now; having dropped the soft petals, from their pendulous flowers.