Going Slow

Slow to start this morning, yesterday, most mornings lately. Reluctant to rise but the siren call of a steam wand frothing whole milk into stiff peaks for creamy cappuccinos prompts me to peel back the covers. The promise of another hot day inspires an early morning beach walk. Look, over there! Do you see? Some seabirds soaring low, scouting sardines. And there! A constellation of dorsal fins, dolphins dippin’ and divin’. At home, I’ve arranged a bouquet of chilis and stargazer lilies. A cactus flower candle burns and the whistle from the tea kettle will scream, any moment, for a couple of French press coffees. A toke or two (maybe three or four) and I’ll thumb through the final chapters of Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov” in the early fall lit living room. (Fall light being bronzer, crisper, more golden delicious than summer.) Later, for lunch, a fresh carrot tangerine juice and I’ll slice up some fragrant, yellow peaches. Might they be the last of the season? It’s no matter, summer melons are still ripe for eating. Sugar kisses and Tuscan cantelopes. This weekend: some bone dry cappuccinos, with, a quick dip in the ocean. I’ll paint my nails fire engine red and wash the sheets. Keep an eye out for the next full moon. I have a recipe for full moon water, in case anyone is interested.