On a grey day
The cars, framed by my window, the only sound, a squishing of water from well-travelled tyres
A dog ... oblivious to the world ... unless sounds intrude, from a realm beyond my hearing
A dog wrapped in blankets, not so keen to leave her cocoon
Maybe a lesson for me on this grey day
Why venture out?
... cookies and coffee, or tea from a pot, with English China, a better choice
I wonder where the cars are headed
To town, the shops or further afield, perhaps new adventures or running away
There are stories in those cars, sad, mad ... or joyful
I observe and wonder ... do I join them on their mysterious journies?