Plunk, plunk

It is a late Saturday afternoon in late October and the sun is casting long shadows as it is on it’s descent.  People walk past the shop going somewhere.  Some on bikes, most on foot.  Cars and trucks pull up to the 4 Way Stop.  Some genuflect, some actually stop.  They all drive over a metal cover on the road that says “plunk, plunk”.  Sometimes it is background noise and sometimes it is torture.  It all depends.  Depends on what?  I assume my focus.  

Two days later.

Ahh, focus.  I would love to write something brilliant right now about that very thing, but I don’t have time to focus on focus.  I have a furnace that isn’t working, bills to pay, a meeting at noon to prepare for and a shop to open in two minutes.  “Plunk, plunk” goes the metal cover on the street as cars drive over it.  Now it sounds more like the pounding of nails.  Is it still just background noise?  Is it torture?  Is it a repeated reminder of “no greater Love”?   That depends.  Depends on what?  My focus. 


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