Day of rain, day of thunder
A day of writing part of my paper on spirituality and counseling
and how those two concepts come together and make
sense. Or not. They just come together
more often than not. Isn’t everything at least
one of those?
Day of restringing my guitar, tuning each string
finding my ear is hearing flat today
and I want to restring going the wrong way around each post
but maybe that is because we are between Halloween and the Winter Solstice,
and things aren’t just working right, until December.
The new strings sound bright and crisp, bringing old songs on happier,
and “Imagine” comes to life with me, and I do, indeed
I do. An hour later,
I take it up again, on another song, and the storm front and new strings
make me tune each note up again, and again, perfect pitch
being elusive today.
I lift my weights and walk my brisk treadmill mile, driving into the Y
others sweating and grunting a bit,
some even watching TV football in silence, as they run
inside from the rain.
The coffee line at Starbucks is long, for a Sunday afternoon,
and we all want room for cream and serious caffeine
On our ways back home, in between raindrops and hail.
Pork and sauerkraut slow cooking in the oven, and the last of the coffee
downed as the last of the Sunday crossword gets nearly solved.
Today, we do this in pencil, not trusting ourselves to read
the twisted mind of Wil Shortz perfectly, with ink.
Cat on lap, cat needing head rubbed, belly rubbed, as he slips into
yet another nap under the warmth of the lamp, while I read my book
and take one last stab at the last word in the crossword
before I slice the bread and toss the salad, and summon the pork
from its bright red iron and enamel pot.