Turning Out the Lights, Turning Them On Again

by Zinta Aistars






[image error] As I sit on the deck of the old house on a radiant Sunday morning, as I have sat so many times over so many years, my faithful old pup curled at my feet and chewing on a twig, I contemplate those years, those mornings, those evenings, the familiar song of birds in familiar trees.

My black calico Jiggy circles and circles and makes a comma of herself on the deck boards, raising one black leg straight up toward the sky in salute. She settles in for her morning sun bath.

I may or ...