Rascal

Rascal

 

My cat

His art is being…

Calm, engaged –

in being.

His language in his eyes

He looks at me

Straight on

Time unthinking

Just here.

Enticing me to stroke

his soft head and ears

Reaching up

With his chin exposed

‘stroke here and scratch’

Just so, he says

And rubbing against my hand

in bliss

His fur so soft

Like strands of cloud

Warm, silky, rich

His head deserves a kiss

And then another.

 

I love this cat.

 

Down he jumps

as I attempt to sleep

a few more winks.

Tearing paper sounds

Lift my head

off the pillow

There on the floor

he’s engaged

in eating his heavy paper bag

The grocery bag he arranged

into a nest,

Tearing off pieces happily.

Entertained this early morning

as the lifting day

colors the blinds

of the north facing window.

Then off he ghosts

on quiet feet

on out the door,

he meets the day.

And I find inspiration.

All thoughts of sleep

Evaporated

as the morning mist.

Diann Dirks 8-6-18

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