SERENTRIPITY

A neighborhood cat never seen before wanders through the backyard. It's a well fed cat, doesn't seem to notice I'm sitting here, climbs the fence, wanders on its way. Synchronicity. My thoughts remain but my feelings follow.

From a couple of yards away comes the sound of a chain saw trying to start. It dies out. Serves it right, on a Sunday. The carburetor is clogged, from the sound of it.

Mr. Finch lands on my table and goes straight for the cookie crumbs, purposely left there, ignoring seeds in the little red dish, carefully circumnavigating the black plate that had held my surprise treat, a piece of pizza. Somehow it all seems like waiting for the antivirus program to load.

I've almost forgotten my original intent, which was to write something, but not the way I've heard it's taught in school. Once in awhile it begins with sort of an idea, or a feeling to follow, like the cat over the fence.

Here comes Mr. Finch again. Cookie crumbs trump seeds. It's synchronicity. He has a plan, grabs a pretty big piece, a beakful, and takes off with the prize. I should write about the crumbs of existence, maybe. But I'd rather think about how good the pizza was. Heidegger cared about das sein, but it got bulldozed by Caterpillar tractors.

It's such a nice warm day for pizza, black cats, and Mr. Finch who keeps coming back, and not for seeds. Sugar is bad for him, I think. Have I corrupted nature?

Synchronicity is nothing to say. There is no comparison between here, the NBC News, and eternity. If you can't say something good, or something that might earn sales tax, shut up. But my version of crumbs is green tea, and one cup doesn't end it. Nothing is not nothing. Appearances are deceiving.

Now we're rolling. Anyone who's been here knows there's no there here. That black cat showed no sense of humor. You know, just because I wasn't moving? To just sit here and digest pizza and listen to the wind and not come up with something so Heidegger, or maybe a Trumpisim or impeachment to keep the tumblers in the air. Synchronicity should be timed like spark plugs that fire in proper order, and best in a self driving car. Remember? probably not, when the word 'automobile' was born? It moved itself, no horse required. Next step: no buggy whip. After that: no person, there it goes on an errand for Artificial Intelligence. Lucy in the Sky with Neil Diamond, and a mandala thrown in for good measure..

There's nothing for it but to enjoy the breeze. Nothing profound in where it goes. Maybe following the black cat. At least it had somewhere to go, or seemed to.

So there's nothing to say. Who cares? It's useless, ay what?

So earlier this morning, almost tripped over the crescent shaped piece of concrete that used to look good around the base of the pot in which, being too shaded, the geranium finally died. They had both somehow belonged there.. In a serendipity of synchronicity, after several failed attempts, the crescent finally snuggled in around the base of that clump of day lilies. That place, right by the line between the patio and the stepping-off slab of concrete, which had seemed too split. These are the incipient things, like pending earthquakes, that unsettle a yard, subtly. And so now the rift is healed, or at least factored into the overall design. Because, face it, earthquakes do happen.

Totally useless. Just sitting here. No sales tax. Great laughter, it's beyond das sein, which in itself is just another concrete crescent. Like the moon on certain nights, and there we've come upon some useless beauty.

Mr. Finchsuddenly swoops down out of the sky, lands this time on the dish of seeds and I quickly turn without thinking. We are both startled, loud cheeping and a flutter of wings.

Well, back to nothing. Or so it seems. Soon he's back and brings Mrs. Finch, who actually lands on the dish and eats some seeds. Her coloring is more of a reddish brown, softer and subtle. They depart.

She returns on her own.

Well it's tempting to hit the refrain, but that would be some kind of elegance that went out with the horseless carriage. She is so sweet with that reddish brown cowl, and her white side panels.