Thursday, the twenty-fifth of January

A frosty mid-thirties start on a bright and sunny morning coffee muses.

No breeze stirs the air today, not even a breath. Which means the sun’s heat concentrates on uncovered skin. The mid-thirties feel almost warm, even with frost melting out on the grass.

The birds are loud this morning. They seem to be conversing amongst themselves over the beauty of the day.

Even without a sip of muses, my breath clouds my vision in this cold morning air.

Train whistle blowing, engines rumble, steel wheels roar on icy metal tracks.

A mockingbird, all puffed up to stay warm, looking fat and sassy sitting on a branch like some unknown species of bird.

Train whistle blowing another railroad crossing into existence. Do railroad crossings even exist without a train blowing it’s air horn?

Train sounds fading off to the southwest. Chemical tank cars heading to factories and plants along the coast. Sounds of crossings far away barely audible.

The ever changing birds flitter to and fro… constant movement, constant cheeping. Another constant, the bright red cardinal preening to his reflection in the glass and mirrors of the Sport Trac parked behind the shed.

The muse has run it’s course, the cup is dry,


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