Bees buzzing the pale blue chicory flowers, legs fat with pollen.
Birds singing to their peers, warnings of lurking enemies.
Dogs defending their territory, planes rattling overhead.
Traffic hitting like waves along the morning shore.
Mikio had sat down to meditate and had fallen off to sleep.
Now the sun would test his mettle.
Mikio was in the latter part of middle age.
Waiting on the light.
Night had turned to morning a bit too slowly.
He shivered in the cold.
Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water.
But there is nothing better for brining down mighty stone and mountain.
It’s also pretty good for the garden.
Mikio spends a lot of time in the garden and in the kitchen.
There’s a good chance food will be involved.