senses of the waking feeler

the sky, visible through rattling panes seemed grey somehow. yet she could see the moon, a dull yellow orb floating in the darkening abyss. and despite the dropping temperatures outside, the breeze drifting over her exposed skin left only a coolness. she shifted. her dog stretched and nuzzled her forehead. forced to it through sickness she'd spent most of the afternoon napping. first on the couch and then on the floor where she could stretch out. there was a reaching-out-to-life calmness in waking with the animals, she thought. light spilled over the bar and into the hallway from the kitchenette. the only light dusting the shadows of the soft corners in her small apartment. dual senses permeated her being as waives, swelling and receding. there was a serenity of simple appreciation amidst the brutal callusing pain of life's too ofteness.