October 8th, 2001

caillebotte_man at his window

October Night

Autumn's chill at last in the night air, in half-moon shadows where the foxes bark across fields I listen to a car running down to the valley along the dark road. Why does a passing car in the night seem so much more forlorn when the night is cold? The waning drone of the engine enlarges the emptiness. sings distance, leaves a void of silence greater than it disturbed.


October

by Yvor Winters


The houses
Are more bare
And nothing
Dims the hills.

October
Comes and goes
And in the moonlight
I wait for winter.

The silence
Is like moonlight
In one thing:
That it hides nothing.


***
caillebotte_man at his window

Aging Cat

The oldest of my two cats must be over 15 years old, now. She turned up, fully grown, in the fall of 1987, and had her only litter of kittens (that I know of) in May of 1988. She used to bring gifts of rats and birds, until a few years ago. Then, rather oddly, she began bringing acorns and walnut shells. Every night, during the time of year when they could be found, she would bring a half-dozen or so of them. This fall, she has stopped doing that. She never wanders far from the house now, and, all but the warmest weather, prefers to sleep indoors. No longer able to jump very high, she now struggles to climb fences, clawing her way up, and seldom attempts to climb the tree in the front yard where she once spent so many hours. I don't think that she will be here much longer. She sleeps longer each day, and likes to remain close to me whenever we are both in the house. Still, from time to time, she will break into one of those inexplicable cat runs, as though she were in a race. Then, she will curl up and purr herself to sleep. I'm going to miss that cat.