Eagles

Some days you do perfect.  My coffee this morning is perfect.  The ratio of cream and sugar is perfect.  My seat on the train was next to a working air conditioning vent.  Rain didn't fall on me as I walked to work.  I jaywalked across 15th Street without getting clipped by an arrant DC cab.  Three beautiful women jogged past me (I really, really should get back to the gym).  My boss is late to work.  I might buy my lunch today.  I heard a whole slew of great songs on The Coffeehouse (SiriusXM).  I want to go home and play my banjo - which is a good feeling to get me through the day.

Last night when I got home from work James reached up for my hand and then pressed his face into it.  An gesture of intimacy and love that destroys me every time.  I wish I could keep James in my pocket all day - because I need him to keep pulling me away from the bullshit world that tries so very hard to make me hard and mean and bitter.  With James, I live on a secluded island with my wife in the middle of a glassy lake encircled with pine trees.  The only people I see are the ones I'm making dinner for.  Sometimes we see an eagle perched on top of one of those pine trees across the lake.  Watching us.