Mostly, I lean back on a bed of nails called
‘shoulds’...each one sharp, piercing...and when
I acquiesce, I am led into further densities...
but tonight it is sunset, and I brush my aged cat, as
she roles over on her back, belly-up, legs spread...purring.
She has been with me through many landscapes...
all more turbulent than this place we now find
wound around us...so hushed...filled with light...
and I am playing the old music...listened
too in another century, long before I got her.
It wears well...jazz, soft piano, blues...Hancock/Holiday...
and there is a momentary melding between those
days...and the present...without in-between intrusions.
***
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