A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
The sun shines down
On the average mahogany floors
And bathes the wood in a square of light
On this sunny afternoon.
The cat lounges
Where the sun touches,
Eyes closed and purring in content,
Fur vibrant under the glare.
In joining her,
To understand the source of her contentment,
I am gladly rewarded
With the pleasant burning of the window’s refraction –
So different from the cold of the dark floor
That I hadn’t noticed before.