Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Saturday, October 01, 2005

Kat Kan Du

She was an apparition
at the sliding glass door
so difficult to see, save
for others of her kind, one
who alerted me only by a lone
lowest quiet of growls from
a distance, separated by walls.

The sound travelled in the
perfect solitude of a morning
still unawakened by sunrise;
she was there in the chill,
in the dark visiting neighbors
balcony to balcony, who didn't
quite know what to make of this
social call.

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