Pines screeching in the wind,
rubbing branches

Cat out-streched
under my face
at 8:30 in the morning

My old age
moving along
its outer perimeter

in a NOW,
ever more encompassing,
ever more liberal
as to its contents;

life-line vibrating
on the horizon


Travelling down my upper extremities,
my gaze finds my fingertips
at armlength's distance;
a ten-part choir of the Moment

My head just another place in Space