The standoffish cat
is asleep now, doubly
distant. Behind
the hanging blinds
is an unlit lot.
The only things
that move are branches,
and the second hand
of the wall clock
that isn’t turned back
yet. No balmy night,
no quiet stars, just the hum
of the refrigerator
and a glass of water—
the wind isn’t enough
to stir me, no,
so here I am still, alone
and in love
OPTIONAL POETRY 
I wish I had your quality of quietness, C. It’s quite beautiful.
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Yeah. It’s an amiable quiet.
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Thank you, Pola! Although to be honest often it is a very studied, laborious quietness.
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Skill rests in the appearance of effortlessness dear C! 🙂
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hmmm … no, leave the last line as the surprise it is: hum // of the refrigerator
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umph
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The simplicity is uncanny. Kind of reminds me of Williams’ poems.
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Thank you, Sarah! I am a big fan of his 🙂
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