The Land of Now

In the land of now.

In which there is a cat in my lap,

not asleep, not yet, not quite yet,

but . . . yes.

Now.

In which the day dawns at last.

Wet and warm,

an almost-blue-almost-white gray sky overhead,

yellow leaves pasted to the the red brick street.

In which I read a not-quite-sober text message

sent to me in the middle of the night,

a message that makes me laugh

and fall in love all over again.

The day begins peacefully.

A squirrel perches at the foot of the hackberry tree,

a pecan his breakfast,

and for just that moment,

that piece of now gone so quickly,

the world outside was golden,

the leaves shining their light.

Now

it cools a bit.

Gray moves back in, a cool green.

A cool yellow.

Who knew the air had so many colors?

It is so quiet out there,

this day before the day of the Eve the angels sing,

A bird singing somewhere.

Christmas is coming.

The squirrel climbs the bare wisteria branches,

and tiny lavender sparks shoot out,

invisible to those who know not where to look,

and I see the promise of lavender blossoms this spring.

all is calm, all is quiet