You’ll never know why
it’s called news from
the Times, the Gazette,
any Chronicle of human
sturm und drang, a
narrative so ancient,
so tedious, so dully
repetitive it bores
even the god who set
it in motion. News is
your cat’s erect ears
reporting the hidden mouse;
your dog’s obsequious
smile confessing
his latest mischief.
News is your first
sight of grosbeak
fledglings, a flurry of
feeding hummingbirds
as summer thins
and cools, the
chaos of feathers
a hawk left behind.
The diagnosis;
the missed step;
the blinding glare
of headlights
you cannot avoid.
Meditatio Ephemera 
Somebody’s been reading my mail. Sigh. Lovely!
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Thanks, my friend.
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That ended a bit darkly. :-0 … But I loved, ‘News is
your cat’s erect ears
reporting the hidden mouse;’. 🙂
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We know that one, don’t we? 🙂 I hope you’re enjoying early autumn, Russ. Our weather here is still a bit too “summer” for me.
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Yes. This. Thank you 🙏🏼
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You’re welcome. Thank you for expressing your appreciation.
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