Mist I

Mist hangs onto edges of the river
Like dust under a couch

Mist II

My cat enters, purring
And posing, twisting
Under my petting hand;
She rubs her cheeks on my
Scribbler, leaving her scent
All the while purring
I purr, too; but can’t hear it
Unless I become very silent
Turn off every sense:
I feel my vibration
All the tensions at work
Driving my body into its
Learned helplessness syndrome
And I obey and become ill
Or well and life goes on purring
But I have to listen.

Mist III
Mist still hangs around
Edges of the river
Like a slip showing under a hem.

— August 26, 2006 just after dawn

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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