July 5, 2022

notes from the observatory

• The neighbors like to tell you, when you’re watering the garden, “That’s a lot of work.”
• To you, it’s hardly the stuff of labor. It’s hot out. The leaves look thirsty. You have water.
• One could look at a situation from so many angles, not just half-full or half-empty. 
• At the paint store, a whole wall made entirely of shades of purple. 
• You heard someone up the street saw a coyote. Another had a moose in her yard.
• In the humidity, everyone swats at the hovering mosquitos, aiming for a kill.
• Was yesterday’s gunman aiming specifically, or was his loathing more general?
• His Scout troop leader from childhood said, “What happened to that boy?”
• You picture a campfire ringed by eager faces, marshmallow sticks rotating on the flames.
• Where does anything begin? A boy, a fire, mosquitos, purple, thirst, emptiness.