there's the roar of a lawn mower down below somewhere, the faint sounds of cars and the amble of the neighbors around and about, the old oba-chans going to the co-op

up above a sun shines bright and heat, masked by light clouds the yellow ball is still visible and burns my eyes

i feel fresh in the flat, outside the humidity stifles me, makes me sweaty and irritated, i feel my frustrations build outside, inside i feel protected and can laze away hours when i have so much to do, i need that aggression now to force myself up off the floor gazing dazed at the curtains flutter in the slight breeze