ocean winds

rope burn lines across my hands

careworn deck warm on bare feet

shouts of gulls

shirt is stiff with salt and soaked with sweat


seven hungry gray cats wait for scraps

tails swing in studied unconcern

eyes narrowed like old market women

haggling over cost and quality

examining each purchase


Matilda my wife is home

hands covered in flour

rolling pin presses dough firmly-

(she said she'd bake a pie

for supper)


I am here


with strange cats

only halfway

through with my work.