The softness of cat fur and fir trees.
The smoky calligraphy of hot tea.
The vibrating quiver of unfathomable longing exhaled.
Muted notes from a trumpet.
Fluffing a pillow like an accordion of feathers.
Shaking my head at the Universe, because She isn’t quite the way I want Her to be.
God lowering Her eyes before a mirror:
And you thought the tears on your cheek were your own.