whispers of the divine

If there are whispers of the divine,
then surely they manifest themselves
in the curve of your spine, or perhaps,
through the curiosity of your
preoccupied face.

Even in the frost the tips of
her silver coat illuminate and
within the morning hush, her
steady purr sets the rhythm for
the day.

My breath slows as we stretch
towards the sun in the tabernacle
of our home.




These were the thoughts that prompted me
to get out of bed this morning.  The image is
of my cat, Sorcha.  It was taken in 2010, when
I lived in San Francisco.  She is still with us.

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