August 24th, 2018

I wake to the sound of car doors




I pretend to sleep, then I get up and do a little yoga.
I drain the rye berries, dropping the bowl.
I run hot water and the pipes squeal.
I boil them for a few minutes while I check on work that I set to run last night.
I drain the berries again, and drop the bowl, again.
I turn on a fan. I spin the berries.
I am making food for the quiet ones who have no ears.
I look for jars and walk around the house turning lights on and off.
I load jars and cover them with foil that crackles.
I put them in the pressure cooker which wheedles and hisses.
I read poems of silence and scripture.
The train hollers by as my alarm tells me to rise.
The dog gives me a sideways glance and sighs.
Outside, the birds are only beginning to call.