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I kill the TV news then sit in a silence some say is God’s music and let the living room focus. My mother’s maple rocker, this hand-made mug that held my father’s coffee now holding mine. A wide beam of sun inches across the Persian rug— patterns I’ve never noticed. I pat the arm of the sofa and in the slanted sun shaft dozens of dust motes lift float spark and mesmerize. I pat the arm and the dust performs again until the last bit of glitter. At the window, coffee in hand, I’m just in time to see a painted bunting settle on the porch feeder. A bunting, rare at this time of year. I stand and sip, sip and watch the morning news.
Copyright 2023 Peter Makuck
Peter Makuck’s many books include Long Lens: New and Selected Poems (BOA, 2010). He lives in Wilmington, North Carolina.
Painted Bunting (photo by Steve Byland)