I sit in the swing on the deck, damp with a rain that fell unnoticed during the night while I slept.
My eyes with that heavy sleep feeling, perhaps from the morning air against my tired eyes or maybe it is a mixture of the bowel of honey-nut-Cheerios and the diabetes that occupies my body.
The dogs romping in the back yard turn crazy at the sight of a jogger passing out front and tiny droplets pitter patter around me telling me the sky is not finished and maybe I should consider moving inside.
A crow in the distance and another bird chanting add voice to the quiet morning hum and seem to be saying, "stay here, stay here." It is relaxing and I am not ready to surrender my place to the rain. Such stillness in my life is rare. Here, the war seems remote and I wonder if such could ever be the case over there?
The grass is a lush green from an overabundance of rain these past few weeks. Are the blades of grass even casually aware of the carbon issue associated with greenhouse gasses?
Klaus sits waiting at the French door to the kitchen. A sign someone else is likely making something in the kitchen. He would never miss a food opp. Or maybe he has just had enough of the morning quiet. How can anyone get enough of this?
Are others in back yards this morning asking these same questions? Do fathers in Iraq ever sit in their back yards and wonder about global warming?