Suddenly, on the trumpet creeper that covers two fences, there are only two clumps left of the orange blooms that brighten every winter. But in my pot on the ground over there, all the pink buds are bursting into full flower. My cat settles herself in the corner that gets the morning sun. When she comes in later, her fur is warm to the touch.
#awakeaugust day 21
(This one insists on being prose. A prose-poem, I like to think.)