The heating pad, a simple thing that costs $20 turned into a source of comfort, an almost emotional therapy tool as when I couldn’t sleep because of a troubled heart.
My little gray sand cat. Puffs of fluff between the toe beans. Sticky tongue that exfoliates my face after a run. Purring warm body while I hold her close to my chest as I pour water into the kettle for tea each morning…
First light frosting the tree line, and I close the door
On the rest of the house and leave the need for sleep
To others. At such an hour, with dark still lingering,
The stars blown apart and a waning moon near vanishing,
I’ve become too well acquainted with the dark dialect ...