Legions of Birds dance in Palm Trees.
God's finger painted sky is full of blues and purples with dots of white.
The slightest of ocean breeze blows high so the lush greens of the taller trees sway though nothing moves underneath.
The sea is softly kissing the shore in the distance.
The Wind Chimes ... one for each girl ...hang listlessly ... though it makes me laugh the 13 year olds is all tangled up ... like a 13 year olds should be.
Colorful blooms are reclaiming the Beloved Back Deck and it's now apparent what Winter's killed and must be replaced.
There's been so much rain the weeds succeeded in a hostile takeover of St. Augustine grass where someone should be spending time on their knees ... "pulling weeds and picking stones."
It's warm so there's no need of laundry.
I sit here staring unbelievably at the little bastard in my hand ... the I-phone.
A writer from New York City wants to interview me ... about something a long time ago ... and I'm really into THIS moment ... though it was a good thing I was part of then ... and the story has a mostly good ending ... though not a perfect one.
I'm far too arrogant to not return his call.
Though I really care nothing about revisiting the past.
I hate dilemmas.
Gypsy the cat scrapes the screen door and cleverly solves the quandary.
I pick him up and we watch the birds sing.
Though ... he has a bothersome lust in his eyes.
And the Goddamn phone keeps buzzing.
