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.