Come late afternoon, just after a nap, which followed lunch but before the news, to prep for a project or at least get the mind going again, he walks into the kitchen. The maker's pot — glass and off for hours — is lifted out of place its contents poured into a mug, the microwave door open, then is shuts — ca thunk — buttons beep, power, ten seconds increments, four times, then start, the subtle hum of the glass turntable, the hum of the heating element, provides the sound to this spot-lit scene. Poppa steps out of from center, toward the a picture window to view the outside world. He looks at birds gathered in the yard, pecking at seed spilled from the feeder to the rocky ground below. Five beeps indicate time's end. And his half a cup of coffee is warmed when a new thought comes through the window's pane: I'll go out and refill the feeder, so the birds continue to visit.