probably not, that little puff of a cloud, all alone resting by the moon in a cloudless sky reminded me of a lamb lying on the ground next to a tree where an owl perches the bird accepts its solitary existence, the lamb lost from the flock, is desperate for company for a moment the owl/moon stops hunting, turns its head, face to lonely face with the lamb/cloud below it Don’t you think anything alive knows the feeling of despair and senses it in another? I notice the

sleepless, 3 a.m. in the living room a silence untouched by the ticking clock and soft rumble of the frig, now living things in this fragile bubble called home partly because of them, I’ve become a homebody and this thick cushioned sofa has become the cradle I curl into and around this other occupant called the time I have left people refuse to leave a longtime residence, not because memories haunt the walls, halls and furniture they want the end to be like the be

I only turned back when I heard it - a honeybee spinning in sidewalk circles, like a car performing donuts but in loops of loud buzzing in the most accidental timing of unintentional innocence, my blind dog stepped on a bee resting on the pavement and with pure luck, it hadn’t stung her oh life, who or what is responsible when bad things happen? are our lives predetermined? what part does karma play? and who should get credit for sudden good fortune? I’m confused