Rainy Saturday afternoon during which I learn to repair a sitting cushion thanks to the kind guidance of a colleague/friend amateur seamstress who has stopped by with that purpose in mind.
Quiet seems to fill the house, the garden, our talk, the cat curled on the back of the couch before the bay window. There’s something seamless and peaceful about our activity and exchange.
Then stitches done and frail light fading, she leaves, I stay.
It’s a November song.
All is as it is, a certain beauty sparing no branch or blade.