A cat approached me
with a note on her paw
that read “cat.”

This was sound advice,
made more sense than my “philosophy.”
Yet still I craved for more.

So dragonfly came:
“I knit past to present
faster than the mind can compute.”

Spider whispered:
“I weave death from sunlight,
and I am the silence the grass keeps.”

“Let me fold you in my breath of leaves,”
called the oak,
shedding its blood in the darkening winds.

And the icicles:
“We are moonlight melting into Spring,
and we share your tears of longing.”

Too many things forever speaking!
So I hid within the night,
but there the planets ripened into meanings.

I could not shut out life.
Even in the subway
a moth lowered her sunglasses

like Audrey Hepburn and said:

“Why did you invite us here,
if you thought that you alone
was all you need?”