Closing the Lid

In front of the finished meal, I closed the lid of the flower-patterned side-dish container. The morning is winding down.

I close the book, my finger still between the pages, and look out the window. Passing trees shake sunlight onto the paper as they go.

Before the first stop

Cream light reaches the armrest. I keep my passport wallet on my lap, even though I don't get off yet.

Yellow Pencil

The steamed-up window breathes beside me. I set the tip of my pencil on the notebook, and umbrellas drift past like dots of color.

Stand lamp

It's morning, but I turned on the lamp like it was evening. The sunlight was already in the room.

Red Peppers

The morning sun tapped each of the peppers spread across the yard. The seeds rustled, and a little red that hadn't yet dried still remained.