Poetry and Writes

My Little Cat (POEM)

I hear my little cat

running towards me through the

garden, light paws hardly

disturbing the lemon balm beneath her.

I hear her long fur

swaying in brown ropes as she

comes, and the tiny bell

around her scruff

sings a fairy's song.

My little cat bounds to

my ankles, where she

circles, like a hunting thing,

my legs--until I bend to

greet her, to pet her, to

let her small head bump my fist.

My little cat is surely like

a mewing stanza of poetry--

her syllables roll over themselves

like something guttural.

Her words come from a simple

book, each one meaningful;

like slow blinks they seem to me,

endearing in subtlety.

It isn't quite to May yet,

and the weather's so serene;

the windchime croons and leaf-stir

tunes have gotten

to my little cat and me.

What jubilance! our trust in one another

cries. What unconditional connection under

traditionally blue skies!

My little cat, my dearest joy,

creature of changing moods--

My little cat, the simplest girl,

the sweet heart of this world!