Miles, the short haired cat
Suddenly grew a long thick ragged coat
Shot with silver
Yellow Dog called unto his Ancestoral cousins
husky and border collie
Growing a woolen fleece dense as a highland sheep.
as cold September flood waters destroyed
Colorado towns, farms, forests, roads
‘That means something’
I told my troupe
Who yawned in the autumn sun
How do beasts read the earth
Seasons in advance
Feeling dread of harsh winters
Before summers last tomato ripened?
When did we stop listening?
How foolish and puny we are
In the face of natures collective knowledge
How frightened we are in our cars
When fuel tanks run low.
Viewing ourselves without options.
I feel great angst
I selfishly sheared little lamb
in mild mid December
To make it easier to attach his collar
his static electric shedding fur is a nuisance
A shower of hair fills a room
When he shakes off imaginary snowflakes
I cropped his ears and tail too short
i pay penance
On our twenty below february walks
I stop often to warm
His bare ears with my bare hands
In the sharp wind chill
He’s shivering without his dense wool ruff
Even with his sweater on
‘ I’m so sorry’
I whisper into his bright red ears.
He sniffs the yellow charcoal sky
Buries his head into my buffalo hide coat
He forgives me
He always forgives