No turmoil in retreat…

Tenderness in these tight places.

We’ve been running a refugee encampment

Neighbors displaced from the fire

And their cats

And a few traveler’s too.

Food dishes piled high.

The dishwasher a constant.

Long ago I made a painting

Called The Happy Kitchen where

Every surface has a tipped bowl

or a broken egg, a delightful tribute to chaos

Babies and dogs under foot.

And there I sit,

Over in the corner by myself

At my own, neatly organized table.

““““““““““““““““`

In the coming times

It might not hurt for each of us to increase our awareness

of how we grapple with chaos because…..

More is coming.