I fell asleep last night reading the Tao Te Ching. Tink was curled up on my feet and behind me
lay an electric guitar unplugged. I
would pluck the deepest string and feel sound travel through the bed. The sound and weight on the covers gave the
comfort of someone curled up next to me, humming me to sleep.
(Michael Parkes)
...............................
I visited a bed and breakfast in climate similar to
California. It was a small complex, elegant but humble. The house was
tranquil, but was undergoing some sort of transformation, so the owners were
there, but not available. In their stead
were two cats, one grey and one cream, but they were not any ordinary
cats.
The cats were keeping the house, and they kept it well. The grey cat walked me through the terraced hallways lined with terracotta tiles and led me outside to the courtyard to a glass top wrought
iron table and chair. Cooling on the
table was a jar of bones and honey, and a green and gold lined teapot and
cup. I turned around and the grey cat
was gone and in his place sat the cream cat.
"Window" he purred. I
looked up to the window above me and back at him. "Window" he purred again. I stood up and pulled open the stain glass
window. I stepped back and the cream cat
was gone.
