Observation - September 5th, 2020, Saturday

The long September sunlight reflects off the sandstone and red brick of the building across the street, filtering back through the green leaves of the maple outside my window.

The window is open; there is traffic on Bryant and a rhythm to the sound of tires on pavement, as car after car rolls by; Kitty is sleeping on the ledge by the sill, curled up on her side.

I see patches of blue sky through the limbs of the tree.

The air in the apartment is cool.

There scent of cinnamon and cloves lingers in the air, I made eggrolls.

Observation - August 5th, 2020, Wednesday

The scent of garlic and curry the apartment

I made a pot of lentils

For the first time in weeks the air conditioner is silent

The windows are open for a cross breeze

A dappled light comes in through the east windows

Filtered through the green leaves

Kitty is complaining about the taste of medicine in her food

The dry and dusty chondroitin that helps her with her joints

Observation - July 5th, 2020, Saturday

It is late in the afternoon

In the condo all the shades are drawn down

The unwelcome sun is beating

Hard on the bricks and brownstone

The air conditioner fills the empty space

Cool air and ambient noise

Kitty is curled up and sleeping

Observation - June 5th, 2020, Friday

The city is green

It is summer and it is quiet—right now, at 4:00 pm

If I think about it

I can recall the sounds of gunfire

That woke me up in the middle of the night

The quiet lays on Minneapolis like a green veil

The city is restive

The demand for justice is simmering, now

Seven days ago, we were at a roiling-boil

I can smell the ashes lingering—still

The chemical scent of unnatural fire

Scratching in my throat

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