||[Sep. 14th, 2006|01:11 pm]
Sorry for my disappearance! I'm all to rights now, and am armed with your ninth assignment!|
With regards to this subject, let's write about the cold, the wind, and the rain. Think you can hack something out by this Tuesday, September 19? (To all of you in Massachusetts, please remember that this deadline is also the date of the gubernatorial primary.)
It was a cold gray morning,
and I sat inside a stone
house, overlooking the cliffs
and the sea. A cup of tea
steamed, set on the table.
Later the cat would appear,
whiskers wet and entering
with a delicate, damp air,
picking his way carefully
over the towel laid out
on the floor and off
to his own investigations.
But for now the mouse
was out, claws scrambling
within the wall.
There was a pen and paper waiting
for me in the drawer, but I kept
my arms wrapped around my knees.
In fact, I directed my
thoughts away from the image. I
try to think of you gently.
The surf broke on the shore. Then
the wind came howling, circling furiously
around my corner of the house. The
trees tossed themselves in
fright, branches scuttled in a rush.
One knocked against my window, its
finger tapping twice.
I opened my mouth, and let my
breath escape silently. It hung
in the air.