Some times of day don’t show themselves direct—they’re just reflected on the surface, skittish moments slinking down to drink, rippling indistinct the instant that we see them. Then turn around. Some times of day only follow on their memory, haven’t happened till they’re past, a set sun lighting up the hill behind, reappearing as we climb.
up all night
to see what cats see
alley moon
.
to see what cats see
alley moon
.
by Charles Hansmann
Sea Cliff, New York
first published in Frogpond 31:2 (Spring/Summer 2008)
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