Night things

Two planets and a portion of moon outside tonight; a swish of a cloud that looks a whale breaching. I wish the cloud would stay highlighted by the moon until some stars appear like plankton blanketing the sky: food for dreams. And it is cold out there. The feeders were emptied today and the weatherman mentioned the S-word. Mid November, this is what should be happening.

I spent a good portion of the day helping my cousin as she packs her apartment for a move. We both chuckle over the fact that she is moving to a town with the same name as the town I live, except in Missouri and about 50 miles from me. We did our whole cousin visit while packing, taking some things to her new place and then having lunch at a lovely small, local coffee house, Alpha & Omega, near her new place. We both have plenty of moving expertise so looking at items and then boxes and then getting it all packed is satisfying and fun.

Here's a little poem from long ago that mentions the moon/sleep/dreams/Phil:

Insomnia

Sleep exits in a roar of silence.

Somewhere in the house Phil,
my daughter’s twenty-pound cat,
is scratching his neck, the tink-tink
of the bell on his collar makes
the darkness larger. You gurgle
beside me in your dreams, a diver
steady on. I’ve been released
from slumber, so move pass
the other two cats and navigate
down the hall.

The crescent moon is bathed in mist.
Fog off Round Lake rises enough
to shade the pine, catch on
the barbed-wire. Something
is moving near the garden, something
squat and square, I watch for awhile
until it stills; in the faint light
it is now watching me. Phil
presses against my leg, moves
the curtain with his big head, growls
and hisses. Whatever is there, scoots
toward the house. If there are legs
they’re too short for definition.
Phil steps back, still growling
I reach for the outside light, think
better of it, return to the bedroom,
dive in beside you, hoping to drown.