coffee pours quickly

Is today the day that I will get out and leap and purr to the birds that fluff within the barks of trees? Will I finally dig to the bottom of the earth and meet the worms that live beneath my loud stompy feet? When I sit with them they will say ‘we have been expecting you. Would you like to learn to weave?’

 

How can I contribute to the bodies of leaves? Communicate with the trees and be friends with the snails?

 

I’d like to be a cat that makes it into a storybook. And I would be illustrated and read in the small book shops and cafés. Rooms underground that smell like wood and soil and chamomile and thyme.

 

I had a dream that a cat started following me. I named her cheese. Sometimes she didn’t keep up with me. But she always caught up eventually. I’m learning how to play. I’m unlearning how to judge. I’m learning what makes my skin happy. What fills my belly and fills my fingers.

 

I don’t believe in thievery but I want to steal things with my sticky brain. My brain covered in honey. I meet the cats at the shelter and I meet the cats in my books. I paint them on little canvases. Little sibling kitten pulls on the identification paper on her brother. Spotted cat who wants to see the world tugs on noodle. And I feel so little. I feel grounded and real.

 

Will I soon be able to play two rhythms at once?

 

My adventures are structureless now. I no longer answer to the teachers and the deans. And they no longer show me historical images and letters. I feel like a lost kitten and I feel like an adult bird responsible for her children. The worms seem so tasty and nutritious and I am just waiting for them to emerge from the garden. And I see empty apple cores in the shade. The fruit is gone, the seeds are left. A shedding snake. Snow melting to make clay. Sugar disappearing into syrup.

 

The ice is melting so I want to build a bridge. The river grows faster and stronger. Fish swim by too. They’re hard to notice. I pulled the Gifts from the Past card and I listen for messages from past selves. They are hardly a whisper from a snowflake. They are actually a scream from a raven that I refuse to hear.

 

Time moves so quickly and so slowly. Jam takes a long time to spread. Coffee pours quickly.