The night falls in pink tones. Streams of pink-gold through the trees, the sound of a newscaster in the other room, a ticking clock. My blanket and the bell from the cat’s collar. Cherry blossoms weighting down the boughs. Moments of newfound silence like we live in the country now. Broad gaps in time, spaces between events. Faceless days. The news. Weeds, flowers, sunsets, the moon.
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Categories: inspiration, microblogging, writing
Bill Pearse 
I no longer check my calendar for upcoming events … there aren’t any. “Faceless days” indeed. Just came in from photographing the moon … one predictable pattern. After 6 weeks of isolating and distancing, Austin allowed some stores to re-open Friday May 1 … though many are opting NOT to … braced for a second wave before our first wave has even capped.
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Ah jeez, that’s stressful. Would love to visit Austin! You hang in there. Keep an eye on that moon…
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Rich and evocative. A lovely short piece
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Thanks my friend!
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Yeah…nature retakes its place and…stateliness
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Like that! Was just reading about “statelessness” as an IT term yesterday, funny…
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Nice, Bill, the sense of timelessness, but heightened awareness of colors and sounds.
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Thanks Robert! ‘Tis
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At first, I read “the sound of a newscaster in the other room, a ticking bomb…”
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That makes total sense. Hi Dave and hope you are well! Here’s to May! Liked your swamp story, that was a nice escape.
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