Before the first bark split the quiet, before small paws stitched themselves into the rhythm of the house, I didn’t know what I was becoming, only that something in me kept listening toward the door. They called it Kahu. I didn’t ask what it meant. Then Bruegger arrived, all noise and momentum, ears too big for his head, feet that never seemed to land in the same place twice. He didn’t enter the house, he broke into it. Skidded across floors, claimed corners, dragged the outside in with him; mud, leaves, whatever the world offered. My ch…
Before the sun lifted its face from the river, I was already awake, listening to the day breathe - the low cough of trucks on the road, a bird testing one clear note, my own bones answering the cold. There are mornings when the world expects panic. I give it attention instead.
To feel envy is human, to savor schadenfreude is diabolic. - Arthur Schopenhauer The ladder caught my eye first, leaning careless on an apple limb old enough to have its own opinions.