Observation - May 5th, 2020, Tuesday

It is a bright morning

There is a plane flying overhead, though the city is quiet

There is a robin chirping in the tree outside my window

My lady is working at loom, weaving on a hoop

Kitty is begging for butter

Seventy thousand Americans will have died

From complications due to COVID-19

By the end of today

The news is increasingly grim

There are politicians telling us to prepare

Be ready to lose more

Americans must be ready to sacrifice

Like they did in World War II

This time we march into the jaws of a faceless beast

To feed an economy, that is hungry for our lives

As valuable as kibble, scattered on the floor

Observation - April 5th, 2020, Sunday

The house smells of peppers

And garlic and onions

The rising sun lights up the sky

Soft blue, almost white

The street is quiet, quieter than usual

So quiet I can hear the gears turning

In the empty bus that rolls by

The birds have noticed the change

The fox and the coyote too

There are fewer people to contend with

Fewer cars and people walking

Fewer things to fear

Observation - March 5th, 2020, Thursday

It is 5:27 in the morning

Kitty is yowling for attention

She is unhappy with the food in her dish

She wants something different

Something fresh

She doesn’t want the supplement I give her

To strengthen her joints, and her back legs

She is seventeen and getting arthritic

She wants to play

She cannot jump anymore

She does not like to play string

While laying on the floor

I lift her to the window

So she can watch the dark street

Observation - February 5th, 2020, Wednesday

It is chilly outside, but not cold for February

The sun is shining through a cloud filled sky

Pale patches of blue speak of an early spring

Kitty is sleeping by the window as I write

I am listening to the news, it is a sad day

Donald Trump is to be acquitted of his crimes

America has become a lawless place, maybe

It always was a place of deep divisions

Where the laws are applied differently

On behalf of the rich and against the poor

Maybe nothing has changed at all, America

Is just naked now, reveling in all its flaws

Observation - January 5th, 2020, Sunday

The sky is bright, light

Blueish-gray, matted by clouds

Thin as wisps of frost

There are a few leaves

Dried things that cling to the trees

Flutter in the breeze

Outside my window

Dark limbs stretched across the pane

The old glass cascades

It bends the soft light

Waving in its fluid state

Windows on the world

Observation - December 4th, 2019, Wednesday

Observation

The sun is shining

The snow is already melting in the light

It is warm this December morning

Everything is blurry outside my window

My eyes are still adjusting to the surgery I had

I can hear the spray from the tires of the cars passing by

Dirty-gray slush and salt covering the street

There is ice on the road and it is slippery

There is not a cloud in the sky

Only jets leaving contrails

And black-birds in flight

Observation - November 4th, 2019, Monday

The leaves on the maple have yellowed and fallen

They blanket the yard outside my window

The day is gray and sodden

There were snowflakes falling in dark of the morning

Millions of fragile crystal falling to the ground

All of their uniqueness, becoming nothing at all

Observation - October 4th, 2019, Friday

Observation

It is 6:00 and I am at the airport in Minneapolis.

The concourse is teeming with people, travelers.

I am flying to New York to see my friend and watch the Twins battle the Yankees.

There is reggae playing at a bar I am sitting at.

The bar is closed.

I was the first to take a seat here, and now the number of people has multiplied.

A cooked poked his head out from the kitchen, he looked like he is wondering what we are all doing sitting here.

He looked a little nervous, like he is wondering how the day will begin, starting with a full house.

I wonder if it is normal, or if my precipitous seating brought about the wave.

Observation - September 4th, 2019, Wednesday

Kitty is speaking to me

She wants to know where her taste of butter is

Her meow is simultaneously a question and a complaint

She moves of her perch by the window

Crosses the carpet to where I sit at my desk

She nudges me, to get me up

To go to the kitchen and lift the lid on the dish where

The stick of soft butter rests

Dab my finger into it and return

She has taken her spot on the arm of the couch

The place she receives her daily treats

She is speaking to me

It took you long enough is what I hear in her meow

She licks the butter from my finger tip

Lays down to clean her paws