what a tabby cat knows

it comes over 
not quite like a squall line
but one of those looming
heaps of clouds
that slowly moves in
and the whole day gets dark

maybe it’s just a careless word
that hurt
or maybe it’s that inner voice
stuck in fruitless repetition
asking why or how

when those days happen
he somehow knows
he never fails to come near
he doesn’t say a word

if you speak
he listens
if you cry
he touches you gently on the cheek
he stays, steadfast, at your side
watching with caring eyes
the close warmth of him
speaking where there are no words

such deliberate compassion
spanning an abyss
between a human
and a feline
who somehow seems to know 
how to witness the hurts of life in others
and nurse them with a tenderness
sometimes forgotten by members of our own species
the deepest empathy and absence of judgment
innate if only we allow

as the skies clear
a butterfly 
suddenly captures his attention
and delivers a smile to your lips


Not gonna lie. This presidential election is a sad commentary on the American people. It is unthinkable that with all the great minds and big hearts in this country of 330 million people, these are the candidates and leaders we allowed to rise to the top. At a time when we really need dedicated leaders working on our behalf, all we have are a bunch of self-serving players in Congress and beyond. We let this happen. And we continue to let it happen. The power lies ultimately with the people. We need a new party. Yesterday.


The sails gently pulled us along under sunny Caribbean skies. The piercing blue of the ocean was almost indistinguishable from the heavens above.

Always one to be absolutely in the moment, Jim nevertheless took nothing for granted.

“June, too soon,” he laughingly told me. “July, stand by.”

I looked quizzically at him. 

He continued, “August, I must. September, remember.” He finished with, “October, it’s over.”

“What’s that all about?” I asked. 

“Hurricanes. As gorgeous as this day is, we still have to think about where we’re heading. When hurricane season hits, we want to be sure of a safe harbor.”


Jim’s words in the drabble above are a rendition of the old sailor’s adage regarding hurricanes. Apparently, it is based on the “Mariner’s Poem on Hurricanes,” found in the book Weather Lore by Richard Inwards, 1898, which goes:

June too soon.
July standby.
August look out you must.
September remember.
October all over.

Many thanks to Eugie’s Causerie for the inspiration of this week’s prompt, “August.”


The early morning rain sings softly to me. Like a lullaby, it calls me back toward dreamtime, pulling me there with its whispery voice. 

The rain suggests a pause, a delay to the usual commencement of ‘getting things done.’ It reminds me to let go. It reminds me some things are beyond my control, so just let go. 

It is a knowing letting go, an almost rueful letting go that must suddenly remember and admit, after all, what matters. 

The susurrus of the rain cradles me in a hallowed space with all the gentle attentions of a doting parent. I am soothed by this quiet listen to the earth, sky, and air that are my home, suffused with the glow of love and trust found there.


Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo #WritePhoto prompt

The church stood at the edge of the small business district for more than a century. Over the last decade, though, it stood empty. Each year, it grew more derelict.

Today, Annie stood at the base of the worn steps. Paintbrush in hand, a smile lit up her face as she gazed at the newly blue doors. 

With the economy finally back in full swing, she knew the time was right.

Her eyes shone with pride as she read the brightly colored sign above the doors: 


On the stained glass window, another sign happily proclaimed: “Vegan Cafe – Coming Soon!”


Yep, it’s a drabble – exactly one hundred words.

Thanks to Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo for the inspiration of her #WritePhoto prompt.