the hour goes by so fast

my therapist
is an owl.
a wise owl in a soft
chair.
pencil in hand.
spiral notebook,
legs crossed.
her hair a wide
neat nest of locks. black,
like her shoes
that seem too tight.
she listens so well.
nods
and smiles. she has good
eyes.
shakes her head when
necessary.
I can feel her empathy
from across
the four or five
foot stretch
between us.
we go around in a giant
circle
of talk.
never getting to the middle.
we touch
the thorns, we ease our way
through mud.
she hands me a box of Kleenex
at some point.
to which I say thanks
and blow.
the hour is up before
you know it.
the check is written.
take cares are said.
next week?
sure, why not, I tell her.
got nothing else going
on.