After I let the dogs out, I fill the kettle to make coffee. This has been my morning routine for years. The kitchen window over the sink faces our driveway fence. Yesterday, I noticed the coloring of the fence for the first time. It looked like the wood had been rained on, but there’s been no rain for over a week. The questions rolled on as I poured hot water over the ground beans. Why hadn’t I seen these amazing colors and designs before? With Covid-19 and civil protests over police injustices gripping our nation, are these “tears” that I want to see dripping down old wood? I pause while writing this blog to check the fence again–perhaps, it has returned to a sold dull, grey finish–but, no, the “tears” are still there.
Published by 67steffen
My labels: grandfather, father, veteran, writer, poet, photographer and dreamer in pursuit of the meaning of life. Getting close, although I'm running out of time--probably why I'm so close. View more posts