riotous

Tuesday: slept until nine, woke to breeze outside the windows. Sat out with laptop and french roast and a new-old poem. Watched the squirrels chitter and run. Made an enormous egg and cheese sandwich on sourdough bread. Caught up on emails. Bought new plants: another rosemary, thyme, dill. Repotted plants and rearranged the patio. Made mint simple syrup and herb butter. Got a haircut. Took a few black and white self-potraits to commemorate haircut. Decided to blow off grading for a day and instead edited, rearranged, cut the current version of the manuscript. Debated typography. Ate leftovers while watching an old-school Law & Order. Went for a walk with the dog. Saw a cat curled in a window box planter, stopped to let a man pet the dog. When we returned and stepped onto the back patio, the birds in the trees exploded into song. Riotous, joyful song.

Whatever work I don't do today, I will do tomorrow. Instead, there are armchairs, and plants, and a dog who is newly afraid of turtles, and this feeling, which I would like to last forever. But I'll settle for knowing that it exists, and that when it leaves, it will return.