Later Today

Even upon awakening
I can feel it, see it--
in the stretch of the cat
the even breathing of a sleeping dachshund.

The cult of business
I left behind this summer
is sneaking back in, stealthily,
as if a possum on a recent night
passing as a dog through the dog door
it came, scarfing up leftover kibble.

Later, as I drove in the city
there were billowy, curvaceous clouds forming.
White outlined, set against a blue sky
their mauve underbellies hung low
like women's pregnant bellies

Undeniable, unapologetic, protruding. Ripe.

A presence in this otherwise ordinary day.

Clouds of a solitary bent--alone--how they
still
dared the sky
transparent while opaque
promising rain
a watery retreat and new life
later today.