Grandmother, They didn’t tell me I’ll never See you again. Didn’t tell me I’ll never hear you Humming in the kitchen. That your hand Will never help mine Stir the pasta. I’ve opened my ears. Pulled the quarters from my eyes. I’m waiting To take your hand.

Blackie our cat has been MIA for ten days, no, for 2 weeks and Quiggly, the brown-grey tabby, missing for a week. Food bowls full of food. This morning, in fresh snow in the yard an animal's track in a single file of paw prints. Only one animal makes a single file paw track like that, a fox. The last time I saw Quiggly I was departing for Carbondale and she rolled over onto her back, stretched out her legs, exposed her belly for a long belly rub from me. She purred her thank you. Pre-dawn snuggles, departing for work, saying grace, bedtime, before the light goes out, or trip departures, may my last touch, be loving.

84's

In night's darkness I saw so clearly the starlit road; this morning opens to sunlight. Now I am blind.

84s

What is real, words out of the mouth, the voice coming into the ears, or the voice singing in the heart?