Cats

For now, the hair of life’s certainty
stands softly on end,
and I know upon waking
it is a day of quiets.

I sit absorbed,
reading, writing,
curled with book and corner
and they come to me,

Quiet and feline
through the dim-bright of the afternoon,
silently through their fingers
my upright stands to meet them,
They are the reminders.

Not alarmed,
I know they do not understand
the reason for their sudden inquisitive nature
-later they might think back on boldness,
about how they were met close
before the impulse could be denied,

But in that moment
they are a shadow of themselves
more sure than body blocking the sun,
the moment a second thrill
less time and space and what the
sense can know,

show me my smallness,
how one we grow,
when through the upheaval
you are the movement settling to grace

and so am I.

One female pads stealthily over
-I see her
pink out the corner of my eye-
leaves off fingers and bends
to plant one kiss warm and solid
at the apex of my cheek
And I think:
Today the wonders are endless.

Today I am a child in the eyes of it all.

…