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[May. 12th, 2015|02:29 pm] |
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the place where they check your heart is like a freshly painted theatre set - down there in the basement nothing quite matches perfectly, and you feel you could knock the walls down if so inclined - there is a painting of an oak in autumnal bloom - it stands in glory in front of the other trees' foliage which are still verdant and yet-to turn: it holds, you see, the first of the leaves to fall. In the morning our youngest had climbed into bed and we gave her hugs and kisses: a little stronger for the sudden precariousness felt in the bones the day after the young cat that got us to rescue it (suffering as it was with some kind of rectal prolapse) was run over - frozen stiff with one eye open: poor little thing. |
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