Start fresh, sun through windows,
bright or clouded,
it doesn’t matter.

Coffee burbles into the pot.
Its acrid scent,
an empty page, and
a purring cat on the table
are enough.

Not quite silent.
Through the open door, wind
rattles limbs, sings through the leaves,
accompanied by a host of backup musicians,
crows, out-of-tune jays,
woodpeckers, those virtuoso drummers.

No one notices when I step outside
except Nike, her tail slapping air.
Birds continue their song.
Squirrels taunt my dog, walking shoes
crunch gravel in the drive,
and a story takes form in my head.
The air is cool, but not cold.

Back inside, the television is silent
and daily chores can wait.
My fingers tap, tap, tap
the keyboard,
Nike snores at my feet,
and brushing my right arm,
one hind foot resting against the laptop,
that still-purring cat.