This morning the sun kissed a rainbow on my cup

Today

Today sunlight slanted through the window to the prism glass of the china cabinet and turned to kiss my cup with a rainbow.  Today meditation mind emptied momentarily before memories of old loves skipped and fluttered, filled the void with laughter and longing.  Today Miriam Makeba’s Love Tastes Like Strawberries rode the sunbeam across the kitchen.  I wondered where it had been hiding since my youth, but Alexa found it and I danced and sang in the lonely house, tasted strawberries and love from long ago.  Today the vaporous sad ghosts said, “Get out of this dreary dwelling, take Tashi, she needs a walk. Laugh with the living.”  Today a cool breeze tempered the hot autumn sun. Anticipation boosted our journey to coffee and I climbed the hill with a hope-filled heart.  Today sunlit tables teemed, but silent students stared vacantly, barricaded by ear buds. Today we sauntered slowly back down the hill, less reluctant to reminisce with garrulous ghosts.

And a minute later there was only a memory.