Francis Masat

Diana

There is no breeze, but the curtains stir as our cat enters at first light. We lay silent at the sight of all the rain-refreshed leaves. Later, in the warmth of a spring day, we find our sleeping cat ─ and a cockroach ─ both on their backs. Towards noon, our huntress brings a mouse to us, so out both go! Thunder, though, causes her to spring back in through a window and sleep through the rain in her favorite chair. Afterwards, it is the daily chase-game of a cat and a bird in-and-out, in-and-out of the same window. Only in the late afternoon heat do we find her asleep (again) in the soft purr of a fan. With moonrise, she disappears once more.

telephone pole ─
the sound of a tattered sign}
waving in the wind