Somehow

There is a purity to a slate gray sky on a late Tuesday afternoon in March

Coming home to an empty house and only bills in the mail

Realizing that clothes and dishes both need washing

And there’s nothing much in the fridge

Best to make a cup of tea, perhaps with honey added this one time

The house is chilly, but not so that the heater should be turned on

It seems darkness will come soon though somehow not soon enough

There is a wonderfully empty feeling that can be filled in so many ways

There’s that book to finish reading and a movie that could be watched

True chores are beckoning, but they’ll wait, at least until after the tea

How about some dry toast to go with it, would certainly suit the day

The phone rings but it is of course a wrong number

Take the trash out and note the stillness outside as if everything else is dead

The whole world looks oddly faded

Back in the house there is a hesitation about turning on the lights

There’s something about the bleakness that one doesn’t want to tamper with

As if it is appropriate for the time

Yes the time

Then the silence broken by the wail of an ambulance -- befitting

Odd this feeling of satisfied depression, of not being quite sure of anything

A purgatory of mind and light and mood like the opening credits to a Bergman film

Stomach starts to hurt, then stops, not even the body is sure

My God this is the polar opposite of that July 4th picnic when I....

But let’s not think about that now, it would only make matters worse

Perchance to shake this ennui and breath deeply again

No more living lightly, let’s make this moment meaningful

Somehow