The cat jumped off the bed.
The human body stirred.

The cat crossed to a spot of sun
gilding the carpet and sat.
The human body turned, returned to sleep.

The cat heard a bird seeming to call
from elsewhere, out by the kitchen.
The human body opened one eye, one ear.

The cat leapt to the kitchen windowsill.
Bird looked up, but continued to eat bushberries.
The human body sounded a groan.

There was a caterwaul.  Bird flew away.
Human body flung its quilt aside.
Milk slept beside the butter in the fridge.

Milk was disturbed, brought out, and poured.
Cat slurped.  Human body yawned,
squinted out the window to make sense

of the weather:  coldness, whiteness.
Probably an undistinguished thursday
in the chain of possible events.



2 responses »

  1. I loved the March 29th poem- Concatenation. Bridie Mae was mesmerized today by a little grey dove on the porch. I love the description of the morning rituals that seem so similar to my own- the groaning and creaking of the bones, the demand for food now, the jumping around to see why the owner is not instantly there to give them food. Love, Eileen

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s