An overgrown pure black cat stood determinedly in my path yesterday
in the middle of a familiar neighborhood grown over with the uncanny
moss of damp light that comes between intermittent rain showers.
Or,
that unique composure of being drawn out of sleep by crystalline
awareness of a faucet in the darkened bathroom opening and closing with a
metal hiss. Nothing there + the room’s not empty.
There’s an
edge of hysteria to all the vividly dying foliage that creeps up against
the steady barriers of peripheral vision - you could just sink into the
ground all soupy proteins at any second, sliding neatly into earthy
pores.
It’s been a magical season so far. A dose of ritual immersion on the equinox can’t have hurt, + a certain occasion exactly one month in can’t but sustain the mood …
Mimsy xx
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