Small Stone for April 11, 2015

stoneThe white cat bringing me a cat toy he has killed for me is sharply poignant.  I set everything he does against the dwindling number of his days.   He is an old  man.  He will go with his dignity intact; he will go while he still can get there on his own four feet.     The spring song of the mockingbird outside my window runs bluntly perpendicular to the decision that weighs heavy on my heart.

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