on birds

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This morning I walked to the coffee shop a few blocks away because I am out of grounds and I haven’t driven my car in days and I do not intend to start now. I took only my book with me because lately I am feeling an obnoxious attachment to my cell phone that makes my heart rise and swell every time I check it. It is this same time of year, or same time of green, in this neighborhood in which I feel very lucky being alive at all, and even more lucky to be here. I sat under a tree on the patio and read a short story out loud to one besides myself and drank coffee and now and then felt struck by the kind of sentences I was reading, and thought a lot about the sentences I could be writing.

I am at a strange space in my life. My last year of graduate school is on the horizon, near and yet far away enough one could ignore it as well. If we operate under the assumption I have been learning something, and I do think I have, then one could assume I am about to produce, or should, my best work yet.

My horoscope this morning, taped to the counter at the coffee shop said, birds change their tune in order to communicate and so will you. 


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