So many issues I planned to write about: the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, the Mid-East rebellions, my half-finished poems, information I promised to send out, the outline for a presentation . . . all waiting to be completed. Today, however, would not allow for those obligations.
Outdoors, in our back yard, Katie stalked squirrels all afternoon, never getting one within chasing distance. Overhead, birds of all sorts were singing their late afternoon, early spring hymns. The neighborhood rustled with sounds of yard work, dogs being walked while other dogs barked at them, a few cars moving down the streets. No cats were visible but they lurked in hidden spots. Squirrels polished off the birdseed in the feeder.
Finally, Katie and I sat on the top step of the long wooden stairway leading to our lower lot, watching everything. Two crows flew by chasing the hawk away, "Out! Out!" they screamed at the predator. The beautiful-winged bird moved at its own speed and will, not to be completely under the thumb of the black birds and their raucous warning. The warmth of the late afternoon, the brightness, the almost spring, the beginning flowers on tree and bush . . . these lured me outside, denied my attempts to do something useful.
Tomorrow comes soon enough. Today is sufficient.