Sunday, June 29, 2025, 57.7* 0709
A Northern Flicker drums. I begin the motion, almost setting my cup, until a raindrop catches in the web strung between the metal table and closed green umbrella. There is no music. Soleil does not look in my windows nor walk through leaves.
Last night the black lawn, the low places full of water. As I sip from my orange cup, a mosquito comes to the window seeking a way inside; tenacious as the thwarted wasp trying to make a nest inside the covered outlet. How quickly a web is woven, a nest made in an out-of-the-way place. Here am I still unpacking boxes, finding things a place. Like the spider and the wasp, not all are staying.
As I change, I have less need of things.
Art: LJ Austin "Guardians of the Lake"
