The day rounds itself into noon. A bird perched atop a light pole sings its melody in excruciating twills, the synchopation in counterpoint to a Mendelsohn adagio.
The radio announces that at 82 Frank Sinatra is dead. In 1942 he became a solo singer. As a teen he liked to hang around musicians.
Rioters in Jakarta burn buildings at shopping malls killing 120.
Vidalia growers in Georgia may lose their crops this year due to an immigration service raid on illegal farm workers.
One million dollars will be spent in the next three years on educational testing.
The mockingbird is gone and so is Mendolsohn. I'm alone and it's quiet. The day completes its course, slipping past me with wet heat into obscurity.
From The Back Porch of Heaven 5/15/98