A heavy, somber sky greeted as sun began to rise. Air thick with moisture, light fog softening the edges of things. I sipped my coffee and watched as other morning travelers stopped in, checked out. The regulars were in and out, we nodded and made our good morning noises as they passed my table. 

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172 – Sky Light

It’s been a week absorbed in thought. What shows after a week of thinking? Not much that you can lay on a table and point to. 

My eyes are drawn up as I walk home. The sun brightens the cloud cover, makes it less heavy for a moment. A blankness still prevails. Lines across the sky, a reflection of object and light as I pass a neighbor’s home. This one next door burned last week: no one hurt, but a faint acrid odor continues to drift in and out of it. A crow sits on the fence in front of it, preening and looking proud.

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173 – Crossings

No crows in the sky. The usual group of five who follow me are elsewhere, the air free of their raucous calls. I hear a plane higher up but still low, past the barrier of cloud … must be a C-131 coming in to land at Moffett Field, I’d know that sound anywhere. I remember flying on them once upon a time.

That made me smile on this moody morning. 
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