Coming to Meet Coming to Meet

Firecrackers crack, and a large limb crashes down over the power line too close to the house, like fire but smelling like laurel or peppermint. Then a sound like rain, heavy wind blowing through the gum tree, limbs weighed down with leaves and seed balls. The little cat is a gentle rain, preening herself, leaves trembling under the eaves, cat hairs on my lap, gray, gray like the fog, licking herself like waves washing gently into sand, patient, soft. A truck passes on the street and her claws press into my thigh.

Coming to Meet