The Happenings

I study the backyard song birds watch them come and go. The birds are a happenstance, they flicker in and out, die and return but they themselves stay the same. I sip my tea silently My father used to slurp tea from a saucer; we were poor enough to be easy going. People in these apartments live cheek to cheek. The flush of a toilet brings with it visuals as if every wall were a T.V. I close my eyes and daydream conjure up the living and the dead. There’s a cobweb in a corner of the high ceiling. I will need a short ladder if I ever feel the need to brush it away, but so far I let it be it’s just another happenstance after all.