Stealing ten minutes on a Friday afternoon.

 

Fighting off the fantasy of a hot milky coffee, a decent one.

Lullaby of Birdland chases the brew ‘round my head like an owl in the woods.

I’ll have it down soon, along with those Autumn Leaves and the old Infirmary Blues

 

Thinking, thinking, thinking

 

Buzzing away in the black background, a bored wasp with nothing to do

goes ‘round in my head and in my ears and in my eyes and in my mind

But out there, outside, there is whole blissful world of birds and breeze and breathing.

 

Thinking, thinking, thinking

 

In here a fluid host of notes clog the stream with their perfect phrases,

Rests fit the holes and phrases fill the spaces.

Make it swing, make it swing.

 

Thinking, thinking, thinking

 

All today’s chatter, music and the bitty distraction of the soft ghosts

of the Swiss cheese and mustard mayo roll that I had for lunch.

Oh, and the longing for coffee and pastry and something to do.

 

Thinking, thinking, thinking

 

The temple bell ting of my timer brings me back to the room I’ve never left.

The books, the computer, the flapping sheets on the pin board.

The stark bright fluorescent dead light bouncing slackly off the grubby wooden floor

The blue hue of the afternoon sky outside the window

The paint speck spattered on the glass.

 

I notice the office, it’s just the office, but today everyone else is away.

 

There’s a new plant on the floor and talk of throwing out our old peace Lily,

Apparently she’s old and fading.

Today I have learnt a lot, satori.

I’m cluttered but oddly holy

An old bag that’s carried too much but can still carry it all