catcentric universe

Every day I lay
On my padded sun bathing chair
Hours I spend soaking in sun
The seasons affect me little
My rich ebony hair at the perfect length
Catches the perfect angle of rays
Worship each other
The sun and I.

Today, frost, where I usually lie
The sky grey and trees bare
I sit nonetheless
Where I expect soon
The sun will come.
As it always does.
If I wait long enough.

I check near the window to
See if there is a switch to throw
To bring it all back
But the world is quiet
Both cloud black and blinding white.

My confidence is not shaken
For I see my sweetgoddesservant
In cloak and coat
She, alone, knows how to bring back the sun.

She calls to me
Clutches me.
Her words
All foreign and jumbled
Make no sense
Never have.
But she holds me
And she is as warm
Nearly as sunlight.

I can get about every
Fourth word
“No, supper, bedtime, inside”
She can’t change the day
But she seems to want to try,
Feather dusting the sugary ice
From the chaise

And I hold her
Because she seems a little sad too,
Hoping for tomorrow’s
Day break.

One comment

  1. the comment can’t do the poem justice but. . .there are so many cat poems, and probably have been for centuries. This has a unique presentation of the cat’s point of view. Trusting the sun to always come, catching only some of the words of the sweetgoddesservant’s language. Rereading only makes it better and better. Well done.

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