a petal from a spring blossom
drifts up
white, almost iridescent
in the angled light
and disappears
above the balcony roof.
**
the cat eases down
shoulder first
to the carved wood
belly golden ripe
for the sun
one paw in elegant outstretch.
**
even the puppy
lies quiet,
a flat white,
you could say,
ear inside out
pinkly.
**
in his later years
on days like this,
my grandfather would say
cheerfully
“a storm is coming”.
how right he was.
**
it wasn’t long after
that PMs per term
and disinformation
and inflation
all increased
but not wages.
**
I wonder what he’d say today
in this lap of serenity
at the eye
of global uncertainty.
Even if I can’t ask him
at least
I can still see his smile.
