Saturday, September 20, 2014
Breathing the Night Softly
Salty bubble and squeak. Cooked in butter. Spicy sausage. Cold amber beer. —heaven.
• A day without time for myself— until now, when the house settles into itself. The cat wandering the hallways. Resting in windowsills. Watching the moon rise, a burgeoning bulb. Brendan almost asleep himself. Breathing the night softly. Right hand opening. Closing. Heart pulse.