 There are several things that are certain in life at our house.
Dust.
Bills.
Taxes.
And if I sit down at my desk and open a keyboard or a tin of watercolor paint (it has to be watercolor paint), Jim-Bob will crawl into my arms within five minutes to offer his assistance and advice. He is now demanding full credit on all paintings, arguing that he has become an indispensable part of the creative process.
Poem – Familiar
My familiar keeps
The world and work at bay.
Heavy as a blanket,
Draping his heat over my fear,
Hiding my anxiety under
Fat and fur and purring
Till we, happily entombed
Under imaginary desert sands,
Sense that day and lull
Are done.
