One, one and one equals three if you think mathematically. But sums done in the heart have a subtler art - Hazel plus Mabel plus me. ______________________________ Hazel and Mabel are the cats I live with, who have just turned 12 and 7 years old respectively. This is their annual birthday poem. ______________________________
No blanket for me: big cat, oven-hot, pressed to my heart - all I need. _________________
was real sweet, she didn't mean to make a mess, but when she saw the earth, she couldn't stop her paw from digging down and shovelling up mountains of the rich, wet stuff until the plant sagged toward the ground and silt and soil piled all around. Then, with her tail puffed up for joy, … Continue reading Mabelline the dancing queen
would climb the drapes, wanting to see what life looked like from up above. It wasn't mischief, it was love! of exploration and adventure. And folks, here's where I should mention: Haze was born into a barn, where climbing things could do no harm and walking on the rafters was the favourite pastime of her … Continue reading When Hazel was a kitten, she
In the drowsy bee-time after lunch, three of us dozing under the slow fan: you, in my lap, and you, in the basket - and my love spread over both like a gossamer blanket, tucking you around with soft breaths and the ease of honeyed dreams.
Like floats in the holding area, cats sprawl on hardwood, tails flicking. Woman puts her feet on the floor, pushes out of bed, starts to the hallway, rubbing her tousled head. Cats leap into formation, trotting behind, long tails waving, proud victorious flags.
Sitting on the sofa, staring at the perfect flames; the two cats, having argued over who gets the lap and who the haunch, now settled in their places; I'm thinking about a perfect life, which is what this looks like. Rain drums on the roof and falls in waves from that one place where the … Continue reading A poem written under the influence of Billy Collins*