Sitting out on the rooftop porch again, looking at the trees,
thinking, writing.
It’s cloudy, windy, and rainy.
A plane’s engines are heard overhead along with a dog’s bark in the distance.
A man’s voice speaks over a loudspeaker, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.
Perhaps a holiday caravan?
The sounds interrupt my main writing and so I stop to write this.
A writer’s best interruption is more writing.