Suspense, excitement, loyalty, new friends, and the promise of a bright new year! What more could you ask?
My Bennie can open just about any door, locked or not, but he can't hit his litter box regularly. And while napping in the center of the (large) kitchen table he fell off, more than once. I have a hard time imagining him solving crimes.
I guess, like us, different cats have different callings.
While I've read many poems written by Pablo Neruda over the years, never have I curled up in my reading chair with a collection.
*fans air*
This small book is loaded with passion - love, lust, loss.
There is nothing soothing about this collection. In fact, evocative is a word I might use.
It was hard to choose just one poem to share, but here goes . . .
The morning is full
The morning is full of storm
in the heart of summer.
The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye,
the wind, traveling, waving them in its hands.
The numberless heart of the wind
beating above our loving silence.
Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees
like a language full of wars and songs.
Wind that bears off the dead leaves with a quick raid
and deflects the pulsing arrows of the birds.
Wind that topples her in a wave without spray
and substance without weight, and leaning fires.
Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks,
assailed in the door of the summer's wind.
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