Except for the rev-whoosh-crash of waste collection,
the neighborhood’s quiet this morning: the garbage trucks
the only traffic I’ve seen; chirping birds
and humming fridge the only sounds. Through the
window the day looks beautiful, sun-brightened
and calm. It will be a hot one, though–
steamy already, sweltering by afternoon.
At eight a.m., the cat went out; fifteen
minutes later, she’s back inside, stretched out
by the air-conditioning vent. With mug
in hand, I go out to check the plants,
my usual morning routine. I should have iced
the coffee, should have had a dawn bike ride.
T. Allen Culpepper