Getting Here

The commute as blank canvas, painting as I go. That's what I'm after. Some days, it works. Today was one of them.

Leaving on time, not having to run. Sunlight streaming into the car, shading my eyes if we linger long above ground. Waiting for doors to close. 

Writing first, while thoughts from the drive are still in mind. Next, the newspaper. Not much time for it today since a book beckons.

And then, the novel. It keeps me riveted till Courthouse, where I leave Metro, walk up the escalator and board a bus. Reading as I wait, as I ride. Stopping only when we reach the bay, when I leave and walk. 

There's a hydrant spewing water at the corner. Cars plough through. A rainy-day sound on a cloudless June morning.

I gather these impressions, take them with me into the day.