Life moves as a cat scratching

its back on a doorway: over time

its mark is revealed. Moments adding up, encapsulated in minds,

on photos, diaries, colorings and drawings, stuffed animals and cast


Ordinary days are a precocious bouquet: schooling, working, eating, fighting, playing, writing, crying,

reading, bitching, praying, learning, begging, embracing, watching TV and setting suns.

The desire now is to cram a lifetime into a few short years, moments that we fear may never exist. The desire is to capture every petal from the wind. The desire is to comprehend a noumenon: god, death, love, time, miracles.

Each passing day brings us all closer together. Slants of light in a mercurial sky, seasons hungrily growing, like young lovers’ kisses. Swiftly passing days confuse our childlike, human comprehension as we bat at hope and life like a cat with a string.

In coming seasons I hope our hearts realize

each brush of the cat adds up

In time I hope our hearts realize

What we mistake for the last flowers of summer

are the first buds of spring.

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