A comfy chair
in my bedroom, away from the stack of dishes waiting to be washed
At a dirty
wooden park picnic table with birds singing, leaves rustling, a breeze flipping my Bible
pages
On a log along
the trail in the valley or the mountaintop swatting flies and mosquitoes away
from my face
In a tent with a flickering Coleman lantern swaying in the night breeze
At a crowded restaurant
where wait-staff rush by my table with clanging dishes on their tray
In a parking
garage with cars pulling into spaces, doors slamming, drivers talking on cell
phones
