Friday, June 13, 2025, 60.4* 0826
Lying in bed, I watched the range of motion, measured it against the straight corded line stringing blinds together. I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I didn’t close my eyes. A strong NW breeze urged trees to sway mesmerizing, reminding me of sitting uncomfortably in a bosun’s chair being hoisted parallel to a 40’ mast to change a tiny light bulb at the top. Only one spare bulb aboard, I hoped I wouldn’t drop it. Nights without the mast light, a kerosene lamp inside a white bucket to expand the light was hoisted.
At 5:20 this morning Soleil tinged the pollen covered water peach, skies orange behind her. A quartet sang pianissimo in flute-like voices.
The present brings the past forward.
Art: LJ Austin
