Opening Scene

Sunday morning. Great time to pontificate, absolve all guilt, start anew or enjoy another cup of coffee. A November morning with the unexpected pleasure of sun and moderate temps. We shall pay for this golden moment be assured. She sits in a silken glow of light creating patterns across the white surface of the table. Bored she watches one brave little dust mite slowly swirling through the air pushed by an invisible wind. If she just blew a little would it change direction or self-desruct? Often my mood. So sensitive that I might self-destruct if the wind changes? Naw-usually the destroyer myself. But I like to keep the winds swirling-much easier to make my escape-no harm no foul.