A small tuxedo cat stops still
on his kitty-paw journey
over ice in my driveway,
a stranger, but just for a moment
I see my own tuxedo cat, larger than life,
found in a dusty synapse of brain.
I stop still, trying to catch the memory. it doesn’t hold.
Only one more day to go on this journey of stones. It has been fun to do and has made me write every day. I am hoping when I go back over the stones that I have the nuggets of poems to work with later. I think I do! Carol