yellow granite

November afternoon flows through open windows like music.
The slender brown cat lounges in a rectangular pool of sunlight,
grinning and scoping the room with one ear that faces any sound.
A woman’s laugh splashes up from the yard next door. I lean back
into the couch, admiring black, gold edged rags of crows circling
high in the blue. Siesta in Tuscany featured chicken cluckings,
shutters against the heat, and general agreement that the afternoon
could sleep if it wanted to; our sun gilded cat and I agree.