Adding Coffee to the List of Sins

scarlet lilies / pain as poet / beauty unaware

And finally, sun!

Ten days of rain gives way to marrow-piercing sun. The garden becomes elephantine, and jack-and-the-bean-stalk weeds grow overnight. I work outside after days of being sidelined by rain but also, I just sit too. Lying flat under the oak, earthy dampness mixes with the sweat of my back. Straight above I watch orioles add sway to their nesting branch, landing and taking off to feed. Is it weird that I almost wrote “Boston” orioles?

Be a team player. Keep your side of the street clean. Fulfill your duty; it makes you a better partner. Sure. But don't tell that to the dragon glaring from the cave.

Night after night, sleep does not settle long enough to be a gift. I muddle through the day after a pot a coffee all to myself and realize that is not helping matters whatsoever. One is always adding coffee to the list of sins.

Hiking several loops of Aman Park with Tara. She tells me of her travel plans but I don't tell her of mine. The truth is, she isn't going to know the truth but that doesn't feel untruthful to me.

It's not the 4th of July yet but it's close enough that fireworks go off all night already; please tell me there is an end to war and that I can tuck a tender, blushing lily in my hair instead.