ocean winds

rope burn lines across my hands

careworn deck warm on bare feet

shouts of gulls

shirt is stiff with salt and soaked with sweat

-

and

-

seven hungry gray cats wait for scraps

tails swing in studied unconcern

eyes narrowed like old market women

haggling over cost and quality

examining each purchase

-

and

-

Matilda my wife is home

hands covered in flour

rolling pin presses dough firmly-

(she said she'd bake a pie

for supper)

-

and

-

I am here

alone

with strange cats

only halfway

through with my work.