Still Life with Daffodils

The only sounds are forced air through vents,
the cat crying from room to room
and, in the distance, traffic on the interstate.

On the table: my tie,
a turkey and cheese sandwich,
an apple,
Mishima’s The Decay of the Angel,
and my satchel
in which to carry it all.

For breakfast, the usual:
a glass of orange juice,
oatmeal and dried cranberries.

And, daffodils in a vase,
risingIMG_0620 like the sun.

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