A tom cat was just prowling outside my window, closed now against the cold which has returned. Still, I heard his loud call. My old cat barely stirred herself. The day when such things caught her interest is gone. She is content to nap, until I head toward the kitchen. Food! That gets her interest. I fill her bowl, and, of course, the other cat wants some as well. While they eat, I go out into the night. My flashlight reveals the bright yellow eyes of the tom, as he rests on the large, flat rock in the front yard next door. When I turn the light away, I can sense him watching me. I fetch the newspaper from the driveway. When I return to my door, I flash the light his way again. The bright points of his eyes are still there. I am pleased to share the night with him. He, most likely, condescends to share it with me. Indoors, my cats, sated for the moment, have fallen asleep. Briefly, I feel a twinge of envy. How pleasant it must be, to be so at ease in the world, so comfortable within a supple, furry skin, to see in the deep shadows, to leap with such grace, run with such speed, vanish from human sight with such legerity. The thought fades, and I return to my keyboard only to realize that it is not my body for which I wish the agility, and capacity for repose, of a cat.; the wordless space mocks me, and I know that I would have those attributes for my sluggish thoughts.
by Pierre Reverdy
Nothing but blue spots in the corner of a sheet Memories of smiles fade away A head and thorns on a crown of arms Heaving Shoulders At last the mill moves And the mountain of brass wire Slides around the world Somewhere doors open On ordered numbers Gathered by name By height Rollcall Over the whole mob Rain splinters of glass Or dew The dampness of the shores penetrates to the middle of the driest soil And beneath their shivering dance the houses Rotted by sun and chill wear away Then leaves are born from young girls' fingertips Eyes open under moss Now and then feet crush eyelids Then curtains are drawn still lower The head turns and hides in the hollow of the arms Memories stir Night goes