June 20th

barrage of rockets

silence of night

morning warning

.

So, the ultimate joy of end-of-school has been accented with a new round of incessant rocketfire. The great end of school happening didn’t happen. The teachers Fun Day has been postponed.

My dental surgery has had to be delayed (yay) due to a head cold (wishful thinking brings results)

And today is Solstice Eve.

What words are to be channelled from this quilted mind? After a ridiculously early wake-up (four a.m.) and a long stint at reading current events and watching Paul Newman and seeing my son on facebook and students interviewed on the morning show, what do i think? How will i find a clarity of voice from the insurgent feelings and non-feelings of being alive on this new day?

festive birds

their chorus through branches

wait for my poem

.

the windchimes are still this morning and distant planes make me feel that this too is regular life. No students to challenge my wish to teach, no impossible demands on my bladder, a release from extrinsic schedules.  Yes, i should report into school this morning – but alas, a headcold makes such duties so very difficult to fulfill.

My eyes close as i feel the breeze of the ceiling fan. A little more air, another chance to breathe this non-threatening moment.

hair dries

after morning shower

all in good time

.

.

a few minutes later as i ponder the progression of moments, i wonder: how much bad coffee does it take to obliterate a night of violence in the distance and in my dreams?

the answer is simple: bad coffee does nothing but make it all worse. Far better to breathe, paint and sing the blues.

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