Upon pouring coffee, a long blank stare in the kitchen. Quiet and slow, only the birds are busy. Walk the dog, no phone, just the rhythm of steps. Heel to sidewalk, moving now. Noticing the light through trees, letting thoughts slide on hawk wings or the breeze, turning left instead of right, meandering home, thinking of small comforts– water with ice, laundry on the line, butter on warm bread.
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Just lovely. One of my favorites!
I'm going to email you about your memoir, which I've finished.
Lovely morning!