like limbs inching unseen,
each stretch kept under quiet wraps,
his purr lending peonies, their
wings rinsing the other’s dark silence.
* * *
Now, the window thyme in morning sun. Now,the long trunk but an X-axis. Yet:
a single sprig is yenning Up.
* * *
I dropped the breakfast bowl. It broke, I didn’t notice. My heart, long-lingering, undropped: rest here and notice. —Thanks to three conversation partners who inspired me to write these three poetic replies. The first poem is a collage made up of her prose. The other two were written yesterday morning in response to certain inquiries. There is thyme on my window sill and I did drop my breakfast bowl onto the floor. My thoughts had long been elsewhere.
