I awoke to a rustling,
thumping. I started-
maybe a mouse?
Many years away in
Argentina it really was.
I lay still, waiting to clarify.
A picture in my mind of
a tiny varmint crawling through
crumpled paper. Am I
that much of a slob?

No, it is the wind knocking
at my window. I see
her silvery gauze as if it’s
reaching through my room,
and then the rain comes into focus.
Grey crystal droplets
make a Seurat of my view.

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