Glare

 

A day without writing 

blinds me. Even so, 

I putter along, 

my mind still busy writing in 

the invisible ink of thoughts. 

When I look out the window

to see the orange tabby ~

king of the block ~ 

I imagine that he knows 

where all the mice are, 

or the friendly back door 

where food is always 

on the back step just for him.

Stories and poems trail along 

while I do housework sorts of things, 

like finding a fluff of cat hair 

that resembles a mouse. 

My pen seldom touches 

the paper when I see these things.

Maybe they gather in my mind 

like the dishes in my cupboards 

to be used when needed. 

A day without writing blinds me 

with the glare of my thoughts.

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”

~ Anaïs Nin