White cat rests in the sun,
still life of impossible beauty.
The world comes to him again.
It spins his head in sapphire.
Grace after grace. Geese riding
the air and the night-stalking
raccoon. The daily bursts
with magic. He will keep driving
west or north. He will open
his mouth. He will stroke
his moon-drenched throat.
Suffern Sea Monkeys, John!! This is just blissfully and beautifully, and wow!
Thanks, Steve. So grateful!
On Fri, Mar 18, 2016 at 3:28 PM, john mann poems wrote:
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