Burrr.....

mood: funky
listening to: nothing

Bitter cold air seems to have taken up residency in the Kansas City area. Even yesterday, with one of the brightest sunshine skies I've seen in a long time, the temperatures were in single digits. Today however, the sky is cloudy. The snow has a crusty sound to it when you walk on it.

This caught my eye today - Maya Angelou's poem in praise of Hillary. Funny how many articles I read out of the Guardian. The British media do a very respectable job of covering a variety of things outside of Britain, not the least of which are the arts and American Politics.

It seems totally inconceivable to me that Suzanne Pleshette was 70. Ah, but perhaps I am in denial of my own age. I was very fond of her - enjoying everything I think I ever saw of her acting. Admittedly I did not see her in any Hitchcock movies. I know she did at least one of them. An any rate, I was saddened to hear of her death. God, the Newheart show was an evening staple for me for many years.

Anyone else amused by the speech last night by Fred Thompson as he was going down the tubes in the GOP primary in South Carolina? I mean it was early in the night and I guess the old man had to get some rest from all his walking for president, so he cut out early.

Turned out a good first draft today of a poem. I'm wanting to work on it some more but trying to resist till at least tomorrow to see what kind of perspective I have after sleeping on it.

Just wondering

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?