Invitation Only

On beauty and what endures

What is living in this room is by invitation only.
You are cordially invited if you possess the good character and spoken language of nature, song, art, and storytelling (preferably in an Irish accent.)
If you are a human, you need to audition to be accepted but if you're an animal, you have permanent squatters rights.

The news is not welcome in this room; only sunbeams, open windows a generous breeze stirring the curtains, stacks of books on the floor.

Idly frittering the day away is called for over random bursts of business.

Maybe old news can visit as it pertains to family lore. No existential angst.

I'm not making masterpieces of flowers that refuses to give up Joy. A cup of tea. The clouds scrolling down the sky. I read a list of things that still comfort me a clean surface fresh smelling sheets, my sleeping dog a quiet breeze the filtering of sun in an early early summer day.

New flowers planted in my pots on the terrace crushing mint in my hands getting my fingernails, completely dirty and then sitting in a chair for 45 minutes to get them clean again. Loving the people offering me services that I pay for but still gratefully, and happily, accepted with a smile

Yawning, napping and soft snoring are the cherished soundscapes. Especially dog snores. Did you know that when dogs dream 90% of the time they're dreaming about us?

Read to me until I can only hear your lips move. Random syllables that languish on your tongue.

Inside these breathing walls lives defiant joy that refuses to surrender even though evidence threatens to upend the whole thing.

You are in my house, in my dream. I can dress you in silk and cashmere and ask you to place your shoes by the door.

Please acknowledge receipt of this invitation in writing.

I think that's where it ends.