The Old Man at the Window and the Immortal Cats

April 8th arrives
with the hush of a page
that turns itself.

In the big window
the one that frames the world
like a painting too honest to sell
an old man sits,
chewing a piece of old bread
as if time itself
were something he could soften
with patience.

He does not speak.
He never…Read More

The Seagulls

The cry of seagulls
Has me longing to return
To the solitude