Morning Glare

With a sun like this morning I close the windows and lock the door. The neighborhood is awake and mowing and gardening in my backyard. Peeking through the blinds and acting as though we are all just one big family. Come in, they expect me to say, have some lemonade. But others might say that I have nothing to do, or that I do nothing, and that all I have is all the time in the world. Maybe they think life can be explained by a window framed still shot, or explained by looking at me just once. Peeking through the blinds from the corner of their eyes and so curious. With a sun like this morning the glass reflects all light, though, and the glare distorts what’s inside.

Right now I feel distorted.