the click of her needing-to-be-trimmed nails
another task to add to the list
echoes across the flooring.
floor needs insulating.
she’s just stretched, eaten a nibble, clawed lazily at her litter box
and now ambles back to her snug oasis under our bed.
I really should make that.
She has it right.
I think,
perhaps the place she goes
to dreams and wanderings
limitless listening and
uninterrupted peace
if only in moments!
is the truth.
Not this desk I stand before
or the cupboards that beckon attention
not the books piled high or the the computer seeming to surge attraction.
There is nothing in these.
Perhaps she’s got it right.