October leaves begin their turn. The south wall sees more sun while moss begins to spring in cool damp areas of the now more shaded front landscape. The eyes of cats roam through the glass and peer onto the screen of new surroundings. Life proceeds on a bumpy elliptical path throughout the yard for those invested in the ground and in the air. Ivy winds its way through chain link and old redwood slats, always on the move and ready to change directions over the futile clips to slow its progress. A pool forms from a leaky sprinkler valve softening a section of lawn.
Coffee hangs in the air helping an occupant stiffen to brace the fall. Familiar refrains of a pop tune swim amid the space. Individuals find their place in front of electronic monitors furtively seeking some connection to the world they are immersed in, but displaced from comprehension of.
Articles painted in black ink folded on a table retell local actions of a past that never stops building to a more confused present. Silence whispers to no avail as the hum of a fan intrudes on quiet. Outside a distant roar from the parade of various cars and trucks push against the envelope of ease and relaxation. A cat utters disgust of containment while trying to lure a door ajar to escape the everyday of boredom.
Yesterday was different. Yesterday news was made. Now is precarious, yesterday finite and fixed.
There is no future. Future is fools gold. Future never happens. Future is a concept to help ease the angst of the ever threatening now. Now is the change so many are frightened of. Do we turn off the fan to suppress the hum of annoyance? Has the hum drum become hum dumb?
A crow latches onto the wrought iron fence. The bird seems fixated on the water under a Eucalyptus tree. Choice seems to paralyze the creature. Water on the ground? The old safe routine of flight to a higher perch and more possibilities to ponder?
E minor and a variant off an A major scale beckon the fingers into a different action. Autumn closes in.
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