Three Crows and a Sunday

Sunday morning and the sound of the dish washer after pancakes drinking chai tea from a Lone Ranger mug.

There is something about a Sunday.

Even when the blue layers turn grey and the three fearless crows move across the park to taunt some other neighbors I still feel that invisible calm of childhood and the loss of god and expectation.


A week into summer vacation I turn my phone off at night to ease my mind, not that I answer it, and drift into a sleepy land of white sheets and waves, tear-drop kisses and silent fading loves not there beside me.

Asleep, awake…

Sunday morning.

This entry was published on July 28, 2013 at 9:25 am. It’s filed under Life, Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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