the cat
the cat
licks its paw
lies down in
the bookshelf nook
she
can lie in a
sphinx position
without moving for so
many hours
and then turn her head
to me and
rise and stretch
and turn
her back to me and
lick her paw again as if
no real time had passed
it hasn't
and she is the sphinx with
all of the time in the world
in the desert of her time
the cat
knows where flies die
sees ghosts in motes of air
and shadows in sunbeams
she hears
the music of the spheres and
the hum in the wires of houses
and the hum of the universe
in interstellar spaces
but
prefers domestic places
and the hum of the heater
she
can lie in a
sphinx position
without moving for so
many hours
and then turn her head
to me and
rise and stretch
and turn
her back to me and
lick her paw again as if
no real time had passed
it hasn't
and she is the sphinx with
all of the time in the world
in the desert of her time
the cat
knows where flies die
sees ghosts in motes of air
and shadows in sunbeams
she hears
the music of the spheres and
the hum in the wires of houses
and the hum of the universe
in interstellar spaces
but
prefers domestic places
and the hum of the heater
breakfast with greg, morgana and chanda this morning: german pancakes and bacon and english breakfast tea and espresso.
the little monster is growing, but he's still kitten enough to spark gut wrenching ohs and ahs and cuddles.
tea with sock knitting . . sweet sparrow knits yarn in colorway hedwig.
last tuesday i cleaned out all my drawers and started a new bag of salvation army give away clothes . .
and i enjoyed having this honey all week in my tea . . greg enjoyed it on his yogurt. it's all gone now.
