Drew left this morning for another two or three-week stretch. I stood in the silence on this side of the door, looked down at Izzy who was doing the same thing. We decided on an extra-long walk, breakfast, and a cuddle in the big chair which is where I am at the moment, wedged between the cushions with Izzy’s warm little body pressed to my thigh and the wind hissing through the trees outside. The birds are quiet today, hushed by the wind, tossed across the sky like leaves or cleaving grimly to the branches with their heads tucked down, small and scowling. A strong gust sweeps through; some acorns plunk to the ground in a rhythm, like the paws of an animal padding by. Closer, my pen scratches a doodle in the margin. Izzy whimpers in her sleep. I yawn, blow the steam from my coffee, tuck the blankets around my feet and begin to write.
What do you hear?