I stop by the Goodwill to look for bins that could be used to wash clothes or organize them if the machine is transformed by answered prayers and there is a shelf with sheets that bear a passing resemblance to those I once bought for my mother’s house transformed first to a short term rental and then back to a family home.

Maybe the roosters just sound the alarm because of the light of the fire like a tiny sun from near earth waking them from peaceful slumber

What if he gave them away? Who? You ask

The organizing man

Nice enough to strangers

One of whom I am become.