Observation - February 4th, 2019, Monday

There is a knocking sound coming from the refrigerator

I listen to the heavy breathing of my cat

Curled up behind me on the couch

Resting on her white blanket

Maybe she knows I am writing about her

She lifts her head up and squints

Maybe it is the noise coming from the kitchen

The knocking noises mimic the scurrying of mice

Random, faint, clicks and scratches

Like a voice calling to kitty

Get up and play.

Observation - February 3rd, 2018, Saturday

Observation

It is dark in the room

The lamp by my desk has gone out

I am writing, typing

In the glow of the computer screen

Backlit by another lamp

On the end-table by the couch

Behind me, the talk from the TV

Contains shades of treason

The orange-man has pulled

The curtain from its rungs

He meant to cover his naked ambitions

He revealed the fragile

Crumbling facade of America

Plutocracy, we are governed by Hades

Lord of the underworld

And his host of kleptocrats

Thieves like orange-rats

Scurrying for crumbs

My cat sits on her blue chair

She is bored of her string

I can hear her breathing, soft purring

She would make short work of them

The neighbor’s door opens

Across the hall

Someone exists

A car starts in the cold, outside

A plane flies overhead

To the airport, landing

The city is full of revelers

Tomorrow is the Super Bowl

Observation - September 2nd, 2017

Observation

It is cool in the house

The cool of early September, it will give way

To warmth in the day, then dissipate

There is ragweed in the air

The pollen is scratching my throat

Raking my sinuses, my head is pounding

The phlox outside my kitchen window

Bears the softest tone, a shade of matted fuchsia  

Rising against the cedar fence

My cat is sleeping on her blanket

Her tawny gray head resting on her soft white paw

The streets are quiet 

Observation - August 2nd, 2017, Wednesday

It was dark, deep dark

In the middle of the night

The witching hour passed

My cat is sleeping

She is curled up on her chair

She does little else

There is a rattle

Noises come from the upstairs

The house is creaking

A car rolls past, bass

Booming down the avenue

The bars have let out

I woke too early

I came to my desk to write

My fingers tapping

Observation - June 2nd, 2017, Friday

The morning sun is streaming in through my kitchen window

Reflecting off a stack of boxes against my book case

The morning sun is bright, and flashing

The day promises to be sunny hot

There is a for sign in the yard next to the sidewalk

It says for sale

I anticipate the footfall of strangers

Walking through my domicile

There are transition coming, I can see them

My cat is sleeping blissfully

Unaware

March 2nd, 2017, Thursday, Observation

It is 5:00 am and the city is stirring.

I have been awake for a few hours writing.

My cat is sleeping in the window,

Half lidded and watching.

There are rabbits on the lawn in the frosted morning.

The news is of the Attorney General lying,

Lying to the Senate under oath.

My lady is on the couch drinking coffee.

We are talking about the news, and wondering,

Is there a place for justice at the table in March.

Observation - January 2nd, 2017, Monday

Observation

It is 4:00 pm, and the rain is freezing.

The rain covers everything in a thickening layer of ice, a slurry of slush and snow.

It was warm today, but the temperature is falling, dropping below zero.

There are people outside, they have no shelter.

Some will not make it through the night.

I am warm in my house.

My cat does not give a care for the world, except to see through the window a bird, a rabbit, or a squirrel.

November 1st, 2016, Tuesday - Observation

Observation

It is morning. Dark in Autumn.

The house is stirring.

I hear the creaking of footsteps on the floor boards above me.

The news anchors chattering on the T.V.

There is one week to go before the election, a new president. There is fear, and uncertainty in the country.

She and I are talking about our changing lives.

She talks just as much to me, as to the cat, sitting behind me on the blanket on the chair.

Outside, the maples have dropped their leaves, a bright yellow carpet laid over the yard.

Today the sun is promised.  

October 1st, 2016, Saturday

Observation

It is noon, the autumn sun is bright,

And silver.

My cat is sitting on her blanket in the window;

Soaking the soft light into her soft tawny fur.

The news talkers are chattering as I type;

Trump, trumpet, strumpet, hype.

I am tired; from three weeks straight of working.

My sweetheart is in the garden; weeding.

I hear her talking with neighbors as they stroll by.

Observation - August 1st, 2016, Monday

Observation

It is 4:00 am and dark outside.

The streets are quiet.

My cat is sleeping nearby on her blanket, atop the book case. My gal, in the bed behind the closed door.

It is warm. The air is heavy in the house.

I am listening to the news, the voices are muffled over the low pitched noise of the humming fan, on the end table by my desk.

The coffee maker beeps, beeps, beeps…it is telling me that the warming plate below the pot is about to switch off.

I do not care for the sound of its alarms.

Observation - July 1st, 2016, Friday

Observation

I can hear the wet-clinging strokes of the paint roller.

The back and forth, the up down; I can hear the spreading of the new white, covering the old white, yellowed with age.

She is painting the bedroom, while I listen to news, and write, and prepare for work.

My cat is watching the city from atop the couch; in the picture window.

Sunlight brushes the lilies in the boulevard.

A cool wind is blowing through the peonies, the dark green leaves are just bushes now; having dropped the soft petals, from their pendulous flowers.

May 1st, 2016, Sunday - Observation

It is finally warm.

My windows are open, my cat is basking in the sun.

The sound of a chainsaw intermittently buzzing comes into the house.

It is May Day and I skipped the parade.

My neighbors are outside cleaning.

I am inside thinking of a nap, like my cat in the sun.

March 1st, 2016, Tuesday - Observation

Observation

The snow is mostly gone.

The sky was lighting at six in the morning; when I left for work.

There was a fresh dust of white on the ground, that disappeared in the first few hours of morning.

The green is coming to my lawn, pushing past the pale yellow blades, the gray and brown remnants of leaves, the twigs fallen from the apple tree.

My cat followed the white tail of rabbit with her eyes; as she rested on the couch, by the window bay, lucid, and dreaming of the hunt.

It is election day in Minnesota, caucus day, and there is a pensive energy in the air.

I am for Hillary, but I think most of my town is for Bernie.

I think Minnesota will go hard left as well.

My cat does not care, she wants to share my chicken.

January 19th

The news is coming out of the television-background noise-chatter.

Presidential politics, and a new relationship with Iran, ancient Persia…warm coffee on my desk in a tall, yellow painted mug. My gray and white, tawny, tabby cat is watching me, as she usually does this time of day; 4:00 am, when I am sitting at my desk; writing. I lean back in my chair, and reach for my hoodie. It is chilly in the room, and I need an extra layer. As the radiators come to life, hissing and spitting steam. The house had just hit the low point in the heating cycle. It is below zero in the January morning. The thermostat told the furnace to turn to turn on; such small devices, with so few moving parts, that you can hardly call them machines. They sense the temperature, and trigger a flow of electrons along a thin copper wire, sending them down into into the basement, to the gas main, where the flow of gas is increased in the giant, asbestos covered octopus. The flame comes to life and the water in the boiler-boils, steam rises up through expanding clanking pipes, whistling through the valves.

Kitty is always interested in the sound of the house warming up. She turns away from me.