22 November 2017 12:00 AM

The cat thrust its face into mine, "are you okay," it asked, oh the words were not human speech, but the intent was unmistakable,

Cats know, and if you are simpatico, they will respond...

Do I walk down the road, look up at the sky?

Today the clouds are like banks, layers like a stairway,

Expected that eventually,

We need an occasional rain now and then

The birds swoop

Gliding at the edges of the room,

Geographic areas,

Would love to say they were being happy, [and I have no doubt that they are reveling in the lightness of their buoyancy]


They’re looking for something, no doubt food,

That thought makes me sad, I wish to carry food with me, nonstop so that when I see a bird, I can stop and leave food,

My token of appreciation for their spectacle,

The parade of feathers, flights of fancy,

Oh I like it when the horse shows up,

 seeing the image of the horse pulling the wagon, it is a milk wagon, or a farmer carrying his crop, his ware from the garden, fields, silo to market, the ache of needing that "touch"...

Breathe in, lift your head up

The squirrel did a loop-de-loop across the road,

It’s like watching a paint stroke across the white canvas...