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Sunday, June 30, 2013

tender edges

small

and warm

you curl into me

like a baby's peachlike cheek
like a shell tucked into soft sand
like a tender leaf warmed in the shelter of a sunlit stone.

the insurmountable mountains and dark depths of the day
smooth away
into gentle valleys
on your breath.

my thoughts

are dispersed

with the quiet ticking of your purr
as rythmic as a rainstorm
as constant as the quiet work of my heart pumping
life in my veins.

your paws pull and push

reminding me of your edges,
the simple rule
of where you end
and i begin,
the subtle separation

between sleep

and dreaming

and the bold crease
that is the new day.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

april thoughts

the trees have blossoms of snow.
the seedlings sleep deeply
pale and cold
even as their southern neighbors
grow thick and dark.
there are storms
of ice
and wind
that throw up collars
and shutter doors,
pull on thick socks,
and fill cups
again
with thick hot liquid.
the blossoms stand against the ashy sky
turning gray in the early sunset
wishing and hoping
for their own demise.

Evidence of a Life