When my first cat died
I cried as if my heart would break
mourning
though they did not find her
until the next day
My small, thin body lay
arms pulled close
trying in vain to hold me together
I can touch the pain as if it were
yesterday
We played
and rode bikes
sneaked upstairs together each night
How lucky I was
that she filled my heart so
completely
one summer very long ago.
After days (and nights) of constant activity I sink into your chair the bigness of your flannel robe softly folded around me Cat jumps into my lap and we surrender cocooned in the warm leather How long could I feign ignorance of your absence? Hurry home
At the end of the second floor hall was a step (up) and door leading to the third floor Among the small spaces created by the eaves I could hide and feel snug except Just before Christmas when it was off limits Straight ahead the attic peak held a random assortment of boxes, suitcases, furniture…
Something skitters across the room – cats not far behind another bird has been plundered from the garland that winds its way up the stairs why are these cats so sure that the season’s decorations are strictly for their amusement? we have given up believing they will ever stay out of the tree perhaps our…
Tumbled by the ocean through a sea of sand sharp edges begin to break Larger surfaces slowly acquire a brushed satin appearance trapping the light inside and the edges finally wash smooth Not unlike a cherished memory locked in the heart and softened by time
The day’s hot breath lingered forcing fireflies out of the grass. Soundlessly they rose – rising blink-ing rising – pausing in the trees, slowly charting their way ever upward. Occasionally we’d catch one in an old jar, while grownups sat in lawn chairs and chatted. Mostly we just ran around small, thin arms o u…
Sometimes life smarts – well, backward glances and forward hopes perhaps Examining – or not what it means to live a life “well lived” Striving to shoulder daily responsibilities, the shoulds, oughts, musts – while necessary – perhaps noble in some small way? Sometimes in quiet moments of reflection, it feels as if the shouldering…