The Hawk
The screeching call of the hawk woke me again.
“Damn bird.”
Tossing the pillow off my head, like a hermit crab shedding its too small shell, I push myself out of bed to stand by the open window.
If this heat weren’t so oppressive I’d sleep with it shut to muffle his regular morning racket, but cool temperatures are far off dreams this summer.
Yes, there he is, tearing into one of Gordon’s pigeons. Fifth one this month. I sigh… I’ll be hearing his grievances at breakfast. God, he squawks just like a bird.
Turning towards the room again, I slip on my robe. I find my hands tremor slightly as I wrap and tie it around my waist.
I
wonder, not for the first time, if I might do
better to drink less. But, alcohol makes Gordon so much easier to bear. Not for the first time, I ask myself if I might do better without Gordon.
With another sigh, I head out of the room, towards the first mimosa of the long, hot day.
©2020 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved
Lisa, Ma'am thanks for dropping in. You have a unique style in both of your blogs. Hank is just as interested in your gardening aspects. Your writings are great, a treasure trove to savor.
ReplyDeleteHank
Thank you so much! I enjoy writing and I enjoy gardening, so blogging fills both those enjoyments! I also like reading, so I read other blogs!
DeleteYou have captured so much here...I hope one day she makes another choice
ReplyDeleteThank you. It would be nice to think she does chose a different life. First step would be to stop drinking at breakfast!
DeleteYou’ve created such a full story - much to think about
ReplyDeleteThank you. I wrote two poems using the prompts before this that I just didn't think worked. Sometimes words want to be poems, sometimes not!
DeleteOften relationships falter and wither as plants in their seasons. It is then you realize relationships often fail as so many things change over the years.
ReplyDeleteThat's so true. Even in marriages, sometimes people do change and no longer "fit" together like they used to. A person at 20 isn't the same person at 40, often. I'm not speaking of myself, just in general.
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