"A blog is to a writer what a canvas is to an artist." ~ Colleen Redman

November Porch Vacation

wintersbxneA good book. A lounge chair. The sun makes freckles on my bared skin. A single fat fly buzzes by like a fighter pilot that doesn’t know the war is over. This one doesn’t know it isn’t summer. A clumsy yellow hornet goes down, crashes into my arm. I flick it off while sipping every color of the rainbow reflected off my cobalt blue mug.
Green tea with jasmine steeped in last night’s dreams. My husband sprawled long in the next chair. His Caribbean turquoise shirt against the brown November landscape is like a postcard in the mail. It teases my imagination awake. With the trees stripped of leaves, I can hear the distant car zoom past on the Parkway. Speedboats racing against the gravity of time? No gas was spent to get here. No ticking of a mocking clock. The shadow of my hand looms large on glossy paper. A grey bird bravely chirps.

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