A tiny, nearly-transparent, flying insect landed on the window screen, its antennae/feelers flickering in the sunlight filtered through yellowing hickory tree leaves.

A paulownia tree blooms on the side of a mountain gap road.

The smell of a small dead animal – chipmunk? mouse? – wafts through the garage.

Brown leaves cover the back deck.

The cats wait for drops of a liquid vitamin-iron-mineral supplement to be placed on their Cornish Rex velveteen fur.

The midmorning quiet of  Monday persists.

Dreamlike memories of screeching animals heard during a late-night snooze in the sunroom permeate.

The rhythm of articles, adjectives, nouns, subjects and verbs reverberate.

Life breaks down, decomposes, into component parts, compartmentalised.

Waiting, too, is an illusion – the universe never stops.