CATS ON THE LATE SIDE OF DUSK

It has been a long time I had travelled and a far distance. Feeling okay, but fatigued from it, because all body-minds differ, I saw some people in an old homestead. They brought me to the table and there was nothing I really wanted, but they had a bit of water and nice talk about the past, the present, and the upcoming possible and probable events. I looked soon out the windows, and afterwards found myself outside. An older neighborhood then, I stood on the same patio stones, under the old eaves, beside long grape vines, and around all the things that so many events happened around and on and in. Overall, those events were good, and the spiritual feelings of the summer air or the winter snow were also right and graceful and a gift. Most of the people from those old times are gone, and he few, the very few that remain and could probably be found are changed, are perhaps more cynical. The world makes people serious, suspicious even. So I stayed there and thought and tried to feel out the past, imagining its long summer days, the wind, the pool kidney shaped, perfectly clean and large and alluring,- the sound of the filter and pumps and bubbles so perfectly placed in the world then. So much more. The life of a prince perhaps. In real and modern time, I did a sort of perimeter check out of habit. Going through wrought iron gates, standing upon stones, I walked down steps and something in the back of the abode moved. It was grey and white. A cat. Feral or semi-feral. Then another, and another. Three of them like triplets. A mother, more Tabby or something close to it, ran in a line towards the ravine beyond the fence. The smaller ones, well they ran one by one away. I opened the rusted lock on that old fence and stepped through. Though the city had cut and manicured much of the pathways back there, - for some reason they left the hillside and one side of the beginning ravine untouched. The plants and bushes and trees were four, five-feet tall and more. Looked like something from a deserted island or a book or film of adventure. The cats had ran into the underbrush and now waited in another world, - what may as well have been another world. I just was looking, like a poet or writer or painter or photographer. I was friendly. The dusk was strong, and the night was coming. I meandered up. They had been beautiful and elegant showing graceful, agile, adroit, acute moves and it seemed they had come from a dream or else I had arrived in their dream. In any event, I walked up the other side of the dwelling`s pathways, - more steps, and left their world and my old world behind as the night bloomed finally in full frame and spirit.

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authors note: the ninth word in the first sentence, travelled,- has two ll`s on purpose, since it is Canadian, and therefore probably British, spelling.