Ten.Five Hundred & Eighty
That watch. 3:32 am. I gotta figure out how to turn it off.
How is it already February? Soon enough it will be March and then school will be out and then it will be Christmas again.
Rose-gold sunrise. A layer of popcorn clouds.
Tea instead of coffee.
Gladiolas. Pink and Purple. So tall. No mantles in this house on which to display them but I’ll make room for them somewhere.
Leftover chili in bed. Can’t seem to stay warm.
Anbaugebiete. Beirech. Einzellage.
Big fat drops on the windows.
Real estate alerts. Not that we’re doing anything any time soon, just trying to gather data. Making notes of what I like and what I don’t; where we might be able to find a decent lot size to accommodate my gardening plans and she-shed dreams.
I can still hear the rain dripping off of the gutters and onto the cement outside the door. Steady in its rhythm like a lullaby.