Clarinets and orioles

HERE’S HOW the unemployed live:

Partly cloudy day but plenty of blue above, I sit on the outdoor patio on a web chair, next to the glass-top table, feet up on another web chair, big brown umbrella keeping me in the shade. Cool air. Around noonish.

orioleObjective: Read more of Henry Kissinger’s book On China. But, as often happens, I read nothing. I look at the flowers and fruit trees. There is a black-vented oriole in the fan palm. They are very skittish birds, so I must hold still. Leave the book on the table.

Someone starts playing a clarinet out back.

Two hummingbirds take umbrage, one with the other and then the other back again, in the vicinity of a purple bridal bouquet. That requires more of my attention. And then my eyes close as I listen to the clarinet. I doze, which was not my intention.

clarinetTime passes, and I feel a little chill. My eyes open to note clouds have blocked out the sun a moment. Gotta get up, I tell myself even though there is no reason to get up at all apart from feeling the little chill. I doze again.

Henry Kissinger must wait for another day. Or maybe this afternoon downtown on the plaza with an espresso.

This is how the unemployed live. If they get lucky.