Knitting at night
She is knitting at night. Her back is turned to me because she is keeping the cat company, who is dozing on the sofa. Her companion. Her audience. The click of the needles keeps time. My pencil slides over the tooth of the paper, searching for contours and volumes. The two of us keep focus. She, on yarn and pattern and movement. Me, on strands of wheat silk, draped cloth, and folds.