What is me changes daily as much as anything. These things are easy to say. I live on a hill, much of the world I see, all green. The cats cut paths through the low grass, it’s how one knows where they have been. Oh stealth! Oh cunning! Quietly, quietly does love make its way to me. Outside my doors I hear love breathing, oh. And oh. Oh! he says, how I loved you and what can she say and what would he have her say. Something eloquent, he may jot it down, think of it later, of her. When he/she is older/wiser. There is courage here. It is a simple idea.
I got up. I walked around. I walked through a room. I had not wanted to write this down but you insisted. Color of glass, it hangs there in the light. Are you alright? I’ll bring you something if you tell me what it is you want. There are trees here, sweet gum and crab apple. They sway ever so slightly in the light breeze.