Waking up slowly, it dawns on me that I'm being awakened by some birds out my window, calling their serenades to one another. They're waiting for something, perhaps for the fountain pump to come on, holding an overnight thirst in abeyance.
The day is to be long, I settle by the window, a nice place to pop my meds and vitamins and laxatives. There I'll stay until I'm called to breakfast. Nothing hot this morning, it's to be a hard boiled egg with toast. The second piece goes down better, with strawberry jam and coffee. Of course it'll be decaf again, that's all I've had since I've been.
I was right, starting with breakfast alone. Tablemates stayed in. The day came long. Crossword puzzles and a book I've read before with a snooze at nine. Lunch wasn't swift, sandwiches, bologna or peanut butter or cheese. I settled for cheese and mayo. Ditto morning for my afternoon.
When evening comes I see little somethings fleeting by my small smudgy window. Quickly I come to see if I really did see something going by. Will it be a rabbit sneaking through, surveying his pansy patch, was there new growth for supper? Probably, but I missed him.
Little small baby one hiding behind a bush, can I come out now? He's somewhat like me, it won't hurt to be seen but we both think it will more safe just staying in. His supper may be scarce. Mine is good, spaghetti with chicken and broccoli, sort of like the TV dinners I used to microwave at home. Charlie and Clare came here with me tonight, other setting's been vacant for two weeks now. Poor Harold.
Sit till dark, then to bed. Work today's Jumbo and check the headlines. Keep watch in the garden outside. Brown grass, that's all there's left of God's creation in this grown down patch, waiting dark birds and tiny brown rabbit families, brown dry grass and them. I hope the ice cream cart comes by to my door.
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Photos and Poem Copyright © 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Today I'm linked with Marian at The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform.
- these Tuesdays are always open forum, meaning we are invited to write something new without a particular prompt or style, or we can repost something we've had on our blogs before.
- I chose to write this piece of prose, perhaps it could be a prose poem. It might be.
- I wanted it to be somewhat forlorn, the setting may help with that. But not so gloomy that my character would want to give up, just for him or her to be resigned to the circumstance in which many of us could sooner or later find ourselves.
- You might place yourself here, I hope I could be better occupied.
Labels: Animals, Birds, Poem, prose poem, Tuesday Platform
