Avoiding as much as I can get away with the routine of day. The work and home chores sacrificed to a higher god of creativity. How can you feel poetic doing laundry? Although it is true, I must admit, that making meals at times can be a romance. Shrimp Scampi last night.
But Mrs. Cardinal is calling long and loud at the feeder this early morning. Chirping quite insistently from the snowball bush that overhangs it. The one we are supposed to cut in autumn but we leave untrimmed through winter as a cover, a haven for the little ones from the hawks.
I’m early in the frameshop, have with me history notes and lit to write about. But first and more important, I suppose, is to care about those who bring me pleasure, not let them down. Though clients bring me cash for what I shape together, it’s only money. I shall go and fill the feeder.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology