The red roses stand in a glass,
water pitcher on the granite
breakfast counter next to three
artistic bowls — one, a Native
American style bowl, a gift from
a relative; one, a Hagi style bowl
by an Asian artist; one, a wood
carved bowl found in a second
hand shop. Vine tomatoes rest
in a plastic, utilitarian bowl
on the granite counter below the
breakfast counter, a still warm
toaster sits next to the vine
tomatoes and a glass coffee pot
from a coffee maker rests on
a stove burner across from
the toaster, the vine tomatoes
between them. His wife sits
on the couch in front of a
glass sliding door outside
of which the sun bounces off
roof tiles; an empty coffee
cup sits on the end table next
to her and a plate with a few
bread crumbs on it rests on
the couch next to her and
the dog sleeps by her feet.
Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto
#2 plays softly on the old,
portable radio inherited from
their daughter when they first
moved in. He sits at the dining
room table taking in the glory
of the still life in his life.
Love this Bob … all of these “still life” images keep moving across my mind … wonderful … restful … gentle …