Mornings at Anderson Road

the light shines in

painting shadows of the tree outside,

branches whispering at the window

The cat creeps past

on the ledge, paws on the book:

“How to look after my cat in thirty days flat”

hissing at the dog that has appeared

from around the side of the bed to greet me.

His wags are gentle .

Speed up as if to welcome my response.

I reach out to pat him, say, "good morning"

His tail is now wagging fast, and,

knocks my glass of water into smithereens.

The phone rings,

my husband puts on his best awake voice

“Good morning, how are you?

So, polite. It’s early, not yet 7:00.am

Mornings at Anderson Road In Ulrich’s annex –

A koha screech drowns out the music playing;

Om’ 108 times for meditation

Followed by Chopin and Bach piano concertos

Mornings at Anderson mean lots of friends

and breakfast with my extended family.

I look at my notes of things to do:

but want to sift through the CD's

to make a killer playlist.

Charlie Parker, Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis, Bill Evans

And so much more.

Mornings at Anderson Road

we contemplate Blueberry pancakes

made out of BISQUICK

Not healthy, not for me,

but I am happy to make them.

Fry some bacon, (fabulous combo)

Maple syrup from Canada

complete the plate.

Sophia, my 18 year old

wolfs it down,

syrup trickling

from the side

of her mouth

The rest of us eat eggs,

drink homemade juices and,

contemplate our existence (blessed)

The incomparable lightness of being.