November 15, 2016

I'll bring the soup and biscuits

Rain today, finally. As if the sky had had enough of holding
itself together, November unseasonable in all ways. My friends
are planning for the apocalypse...or at least, enough catastrophe
to escape our current zip codes. A playlist is being assembled. A corner
in a house is mounting with art supplies. Liz has been knitting us
wrist guards to keep the cold out. "I'll bring the soup and biscuits," I say,
only half-jokingly, looking around for what I would scramble to gather
if the call comes. The dog has her head tucked in the crack of the couch cushions,
sleeping out the storm. Soon enough, she'll wag over to the back door and demand
to be let out, where the world - teeming with potential - is waiting to greet her.