I Hear Sarah Moon

It is cool this morning, the coolest morning of the new fall.  The sun has drifted farther to the south now so that the shadows are beginning to fall dramatically.  Birds chirp.  My windows are hideously dirty.  I will do something about that, I tell myself.  But not today.

We move onward in undramatic fashion, then in a flash--boom!--there is drama.  Suddenly we are at the vortex of some event we do not or no longer desire.  But there it is and there is nothing to be done.

I am too melancholy to write anything today.  I do not think I know my own mind.

If I talk to you, you will tell me to do this, tell me to do that.  Then you will tell me nothing at all.  There is no help for it.  There is really nothing to be done.

I am cool.  I want to be warm.  I want to be warm and feel the cool air around me.

I want something like this.