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Sunday, February 03, 2013

Of a quiet weekend

So much happens on weekend days when nothing is happening.

A squirrel shoves his face deep in the snow, looking for a nut. Does he remember where he buried it?

The dog spies deer in the backyard and gives chase without uttering a single syllable of his irritating little bark. They flee like thieves.

The furnace fan kicks on. Shuts off. Kicks on again.

The hole in the sweater calls out to be sewn.

A friend drops by with a plow and cleans the drive.

The cat curls onto lap, onto keyboard. Purrs and sleeps.

The pen makes a line on a coated paper.

The page gets turned and turned again. And again.

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