Calm Saturday Morning

The scent of vanilla and pumpkin

lingers in the air. The dishwasher

plays its song, a rhythm

like binaural beats

coming from the kitchen.

Alexa plays "Soothing music",

gentle guitar strums

rinse and repeat, something

in G major.

She plays music

with no words:

music that's simple

and clean.

***

My red and white cat sits

on top of the gray couch,

and in a melancholy way,

she looks at the floor.

She hesitates

to pounce

on the carpet.

My white and gray cat

licks his paw. He sits

among his toys:

a beheaded mouse, a giant carrot,

a bird with blue feathers, a rope

of yarn, and a red ball.

***

I'm sitting in my living room

wondering what the future holds.

I'm in black yoga pants,

a Where's Waldo t-shirt,

a gray flannel shirt, and green

tortoiseshell glasses. Sigur Ros

plays some chords

and sings in a made-up language.

I haven't had my tea yet.

I haven't done my yoga stretches.

I'm planning to write a recipe

for a cake. I'm hoping

people will want to try

my recipe.

***

Everything is calm

and distilled this morning.

Home, the sanctuary.

I look out the window:

the trees have no leaves,

the sky caressed with clouds,

fog surrounds the neighborhood,

ice chunks form in the lake,

and the geese army gathers.

Alexa plays a slow jazz tune

with piano arpeggios and

and alto sorrows.