don’t hesitate. Give in to it.”
Happy fall back day everyone. I wish unbridled joy to all beings, seen and unseen, large and small, in all directions.
And here, now, today’s lovely poem from The Writer’s Almanac. (cat people especially, this is for you.)
After Spending the Morning Baking Bread
by Jack Ridl
Our cat lies across the stove’s front burners,
right leg hanging over the oven door. He
is looking into the pantry where his bowl
sits full on the counter. His smaller dish,
the one for his splash of cream, sits empty.
Say yes to wanting to be this cat. Say
yes to wanting to lie across the leftover
warmth, letting it rise into your soft belly,
spreading into every twitch of whisker, twist
of fur and cell, through the Mobius strip
of your bloodstream. You won’t know
you will die. You won’t know the mice
do not exist for you. If a lap is empty and
warm, you will land on it, feel an unsteady
hand along your back, fingers scratching
behind your ear. You will purr.
“After Spending the Morning Baking Bread” by Jack Ridl from Practicing to Walk Like a Heron. © Wayne State University Press, 2013. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)