the İman calls
five times a day
and a dog
somewhere on the streets
answers
in almost harmony
two worlds
meet
in Moda
and joy swells
in my heart
for both
other writing
the night gives
bits and pieces
a word here
there a phrase
a puzzle incomplete
this the night gives
for the morning
to reshape
what cats, and dogs, too, for that matter, know
the cat knows
movement is afoot
and trails me
from room to room
hugging tight
to my arm
as if to say
not without me
oh no old pal
surely not without you
the wind
once
I ran with the wind
now
the wind runs with me
from a line from the poem Mid-Autumn Moon by Su Tung-p’o even though it is not autumn and there’s no moon in sight
wanting to write
a line or two
in answer
to your letter
but fear my heart
could not bear
not writing the words
between those lines
old recipes
something as simple
as reading old recipes
bring thoughts of distant times
of kitchens long ago
of people no longer present
of someone
I used to be
before evolving
into the man in this kitchen
today
my turn
watch trains
go south north
this way that
people come go
soon my turn
back and forth
in life
there’s life
there’s Baileys
sweetening my coffee
there’s the morning
caressing the hills
there’s the cat
stretched out on the table
there’s life
slowly coming
my way
a lesson to learn
there’s something about
an animal at rest
that has no hint
of the future
that says
just now
just here
just enough
these old bones
there’s Bailey’s
in my coffee
the cat asleep
back there
on the bed
the sun peeking
through the haze
on the hills
beyond
and these old bones
almost feel peaceful
again
Leonard Durso 