Ophelia has invaded autumn’s arrival.

Cold and damp.

Water droplets bouncing off the windowpanes.

Sunflowers are drooped and broken.

Their proud yellow blooms are mired and faced down,

on the soggy grass.

Birds will not be chirping, for the hurricane winds,

have stolen their songs.

No editing today—

Staying away—

Not going near that Mac computer.

Just mundane chores of cleaning and cooking.

Porkchetta entombed in string, steaming in a red crock-pot.

Potatoes peeled.

Carrots chopped up.

Dumping them into water filled aluminum pots.

The heat, that glorious stove heat.

Hot and cold colliding.

Creating hazy condensation on glass windows.

Watching imprinted steam images appear.

On the sun porch sliding door.

Of assorted human sized hands and cat paws.

Water clouded art, displayed in my own muse d’orsay.

Day dreaming of Degas, Renoir and Pissarro.

Wondering how they would work with Ophelia.

And this every changing momentary glass canvas.

© Mary Anne Abdo

Getting back to what I love.http://maryanne.abdo