The days are short
The days are long
Like cat hair they are shed and they grow
One replacing another
Looking the same yet no two alike
Dusk, shadows yawn and stretch
Waking from corners of the house
Corners of large round eyes
Treading on padded paws, soft measurements of the night
And folding back into slumber at the first blinks of light
As the large round eyes, pairs of liquid sundials
Turn and purr themselves to sleep
And so the summer is long
The summer is short
A lifetime's summers are right here, right now
A dream dictated
Fleeting but ever recollected
A cat leaps
The year leaps
Arching gracefully
Aging unawares
Hands holding, stroking, gripping
Hours of sand slipping
If only all this could be repeated -
Precisely because it can't -
A vaguely hesitant vacation
An indeterminate intermission
