She half-wakes ...

 

She half-wakes and cries, 

curled on a cushion

on the next chair to mine.

(She likes to be near.)

I reach over, cradle

her tiny skull in my hand,

stroking gently. She sinks

back into peaceful sleep.

Frst light ...

 

first light 

wakes me too early –

my cat is glad

In the quiet night ...

 

In the quiet night,

telling my cat in words and touch

how much I love her, 

and listening to her purrs and body language

telling me how much 

it’s enjoyed and returned,

I can only be thankful 

the Universe gave us each other 

now that we are both elderly 

with no-one else as our daily focus —

the Universe which understands well 

that love between animals and people

can be as great as any other

and as sweet.

Am I not blessed? ...

Am I not blessed?

My beloved is ecstatic 

at my merest touch.

She shows this 

in her body’s reactions:

the involuntary flex and curl

of her tiny paw,

the deep, sustained purring.

She knows how ...

 

She knows how to make 

the world go away,

wrapping herself up

in a warm, safe nest.

Sometimes small noises

which I think are dreams 

(not miaows nor purrs

but very faint cries)

come from the bundle

of her private sleep.

I chase away ...

 

I chase away the strange young cat

behind my car, so I won’t run it over. 

It dives underneath! I shout and thump 

until it darts further, crouching big-eyed

under a sparse bush on next-door’s lawn.

Are you lost, little one? I can’t help. Can’t stop, 

can’t be late. And if I took you in, my Poppi 

would grow fierce and attack. I think you look

well enough, but slender. I drive away, calling 

on Bast to protect you and lead you home.

Contrary to cynical rumours ...

Contrary to cynical rumours 

about cats, this one often insists 

on long, smoochy cuddles

to which she abandons herself

ecstatically, before requesting food.

As the season changes ...

 

As the season changes 

we feel unsettled, my cat and me.

The only redress is tactile:

on cold nights having each other 

to cling to and cuddle.

The small cat wants to know …

The small cat wants to know, 

‘Where did our visitor go?

So warm and kind and sweet,

she was a real cat treat!

I’m glad to reclaim my space 

but I’ll miss her about the place.’ 

And I am past …

And I am past 

one anniversary that might cause grief,

spending it instead

in cosy love of a small animal

in the hermit cave I create from my home:

sweet retreat, on cold days or sad ones.

Having outlived

the husbands, the lovers,

and all of my animal companions 

except this one, yet there’s delight

that most of my friendships 

are still here, embodied. And I rejoice 

in my many memories, worth staying alive for 

as long as I can.

After sunny late winter ...

After sunny late winter weather, a 

cold snap — time to retrieve my

jacket, turn the heaters on already

at 3pm.

Cold gloom outside,

a hint of drizzle.

I close out the world.

Keeping my small cat

safe and comfortable 

here with me — what 

could matter more?

My Tarot cards tell me ...

My Tarot cards tell me,

today I am the Empress,

the Mother. My cat thinks 

I am her mother – except

when she thinks she’s mine.

Yes, she demands ...

Yes, she demands

food and comfort,

and sometimes finds me

difficult and slow to train.

But I know she loves me,

my little cat. She tells me 

over and over, in many ways, 

that her greatest happiness 

is simply to be near me.

We go about our own day ...

We go about our own day

the small cat and me –

but like to know, each, 

exactly where in the house

at any time the other is.

Cold night ...

 

cold night

I find my cat

close by

I loll with my cat ...

I loll with my cat,

for cuddle time,

in a patch of autumn sunshine 

next to a row of windows

above a street of trees 

and the last of the azaleas.

The Queen of Pentacles,

my card for today,

lolls, I see, in a bower

with leaves and roses,

sensual curves displayed 

in a generous window frame.

Image from Lioness Oracle Tarot.