On hearing the announcement of her retirement, he isn't sure whether to clap. Would clapping come across as congratulatory, or would it reveal what he really thinks?
Dancers in costume have drawn people under the tents, in a pause for music, shared enjoyment, the sense of being part of a larger culture, and a reminder that they're not always locked into the pace of work and errands.
The window at the historic synagogue is a giant disc of shimmering blue.
A robin with a worm twitching in its beak waits to see what else we'll uncover when we pull out the next weed.
Leaves are layered, green and purple, in the lamplight. After a day of rain, the air is moist and cool.
A small, quiet square, a bench, and a flowering tree.
I have a poignant dream of her in which she's younger and in better health. I spot her across a city street at night. Soon after, we're on a train on a gray day, and she's heading for the house of one of her grandsons. She has an older address, one he's moved away from, but insists it's the one she wants to go to.