The aura of calm: January’s sun streams in her kitchen window.
A nuthatch, poised upside down on the feeder, chisels away at
the new brick of cherry suet. There is a stillness in the room.
The gray cat stares intently into light’s cool blues and yellows.
The house plants need to be watered. She mustn’t forget. She
fills the clay pitcher with tap water and begins to move along
the sills filled with plants. This is poetry, she thinks, turning
her wrist deftly, allowing the slow spill of water to sink into
the dry soil. It happens— without surprise: Monday.