It’s mid evening when the sun is running it’s golden fingers through the grass in the backyard of our house. Quiet enough to hear the wafting of the crows feathers as it flies past, the movement stirs the scent of lilacs from a neighbours hedge, they drift past on the breeze.
Bootsie sits on the opposite chair, mine is not the lap he craves tonight, he is ever watchful of the crow, and I can see him lift his nose to scent the air around him, as it flies past.
He lurks in a land of drowsy softly closing eyes, and contented purrs… the lilacs fill the air around us, and I know that this is a moment. One that I craved, wished, imagined, and hoped for down on the coast. Now the lilacs are on the breeze, the cat is on the chair… the golden light echoes off of the crows feathers, and all is good. Happy Sunday,