The three inspected the dark, went back to sleep. Dawn revealed glints of light on water, red leaves. Green grass emerged from darkness. From my desk, I took an almost empty glass of water and last night’s teacup, walked through the hall toward the kitchen guided by night sensor lights. I stumbled. Fell against the kitchen counter not sure what happened to the almost empty glass of water or the teacup no longer in my hands. I didn’t hear anything break. I realized I had almost stepped on Ruger lying in front of the sink instead of his usual place on the sofa. We are happy to both be a little bruised not broken.

     Blue seen past wet leaves seeps into white. Words heard from Downy Woodpecker, Red-breasted Nuthatch, Black-capped Chickadee and another Merlin nor I could identify. Zayne paces. Zsolt follows. Mosquitoes fly. Web inside an air conditioner sparkles with captured drops. Soleil turns her light on the thirsty pond illuminating trees. Last night as I was standing in the rain, a Great Blue Heron, unseen for months, walked through the stream.

     A bright light on the horizon where the sun’s usually seen. No dew. No whispers from Mariah. Zsolt doesn’t come inside. Coffee drips into a yellow cup. Zayne refuses his biscuit, goes to the sofa, his room, back to the door. Zsolt walks down the ramp as I cross the threshold.

   A lone Raven squawks a Wednesday greeting. Sky silver. Leaves unmoving. Apple crisp cheesecake a little mushy, hazelnut in a slate blue cup. The three again sleeping.

     I leave the three outside, sliding door open go blow leaves off the front deck; they follow the noise, noses painting the latched glass door when they find me. Golds, reds, greens unseen from this perspective last year. I scrape cream cheese frosting from the plate, gather walnuts fallen from carrot cake. Sip hazelnut from my sunshine cup.

     Stars light a clear black sky. Most of them still on at 4:30, solar lights shine. The three yawn. Ruger stands at the door deciding to come out or lie down. Hazelnut in a red cup, the three asleep already.

     Zayne runs, jumps for a clear view of the dark beyond chain links that bind him. Coyotes sing. Battery for my heated vest, zero charge. Fleece sweatshirt, in the wash, will shrink in the dryer. Orange creeps from darkness into sky. Solar lights flicker. White-throated Sparrow, Red Crossbill. 

     A Red-eyed Vireo was the first to speak joined by a Blue-headed Vireo, Yellow-rumped Warbler, White-throated sparrow, American Crow. A zip-it-up, cover-up morning. All but three of the next ten days to be in the 60s, nights colder. Another day of elevated fire danger.

     Released from the cloud that captured, Soleil casts sunlight through the leaves. A line of brightness, of depth. Soleil brings out many shades of green, once she’s gone, all will appear to be the same again.  Crickets, Northern Cardinal, Blackpoll Warbler, American Crow, Blue Jay, American Goldfinch greet Friday.

     It looks cold outside. Silver sky, background for green, red, orange, gold leaves. A Barred Owl breaks the silence, unseen. I’ve seen him before not hidden by leaves sitting on a branch, taking flight suddenly, startled by the sliding of the door.

     In tall grass glimpsed out the window briefly while coffee reheated, a black snake, then memory corrects, “hose by the raspberry bushes.” During sleep I removed my glasses didn’t quite reach the chest I heard them fall in a dream. Moved one chest a few inches didn’t see them. Moved the twin partially revealing the lamp base, cord, no glasses. A bag of shrink-wrapped summer dresses (the vacuumed air came back), a milk stool holding watch, phone, hearing aids charging, a laundry basket, antique picture, all posing in front of the twin chests must be moved somewhere else again to discover if my glasses are under the twin chests. X-ray vision would be nice.

     Trucks traveling Route 172 at 5 made the only music. Two hours later, birds: Blue Jay, Canada Goose, White-throated Sparrow, Red-winged Blackbird, Northern Cardinal, Tufted Titmouse, Osprey.