The long September sunlight
reflects off the sandstone and red brick of the building across the street, filtering
back through the green leaves of the maple outside my window.
The window is open; there is
traffic on Bryant and a rhythm to the sound of tires on pavement, as car after
car rolls by; Kitty is sleeping on the ledge by the sill, curled up on her
side.
I see patches of blue sky through
the limbs of the tree.
The air in the apartment is cool.
There scent of cinnamon and cloves
lingers in the air, I made eggrolls.
