A Bite
Watching you try to bite the stream of water, I wanted to take a bite of this summer evening too.
Already That House
I went for a walk at lunchtime. When the dog reached the entrance of an apartment building, it wagged its tail and went right in. Seeing it walk through a strange place as if it were its own neighborhood, I felt a real envy. The owner gave the leash a gentle tug and brought it back outside. The dog paused a moment, then headed for the entrance again. When the owner said, "That's not our house," the voice was half laughing. Come to think of it, I've done the same. Every building I walk into on the way to work is a different floor, but the corridors inside all look alike. That day I passed by three times and came back out once. The dog still seems to think that door is its home.
Announcement
Please keep off the grass. When the announcement came on, a pigeon that had paused for a moment moved on. Three steps, a stop, then walking again. It didn't seem to be judging whether the path was grass or not by the length of its legs. More people were listening to that announcement than to the sign. That feeling of quietly pausing when we hear certain words, the pigeon knew nothing of it, and was walking on, some way off.
Bottle Cap
On the way to work this morning, a bottle cap lay on the roadside. Two crows kept taking turns picking it up and backing off. When one carried it away, the other chased after, brought it back, and set it down. Watching, I slowly tried to understand their rules. Then it struck me that last night I'd been doing the same thing with someone. So I just kept walking.
Six Fifteen
Before the alarm rings, sunlight through the gap in the curtains tickles her eyelids. From under the covers she reaches out just a hand and gropes for her phone. The clock still says six fifteen. The alarm is twenty minutes away. Down in the kitchen, the milk carton she bought yesterday is on the table. From the opened spout comes a faintly sour smell. She sniffs it, hesitates a moment, and ends up boiling water instead of making coffee. The bubbling of the kettle sounds unusually loud. Outside, a sky without a single cloud. She washes her face in cold water and hopes the face in the mirror looks a little less tired. But the woman in the mirror is exactly the same as yesterday. Somehow that makes her smile a little.
An Unmatched Morning
Morning is the moment two socks meet each other for the first time.