, , , , ,


(wc 270)

What mysteries they keep to themselves.
Some secret genetic code; sparking eyes, flinty;
Austere habits, but flexible manners;
They carry within an unexpected warmth.
Golden hearts, burnished by antiquity,
Born as a ruler with the mien of a goddess.
They rule their households with pride of place.
Any blur in relations is easily refocused: they
Spill their bodies, over and around
the prickly soul in need – in such a cocoon,
all barnacles of temper crumble
like chalk, their caterpillar charges
now drenched with feline affection
push away the furry comforter.
With rude gratitude, their serfs
move on.  No matter to the cat –
A leisurely scrape of tongue
over human-touched and fondled
fur; there is now the appointed rest,
Undisturbed, as befits the monarch
of her home.


Hubs and I have been servants to several cats over the years of our marriage.  Each one special, unique, loving, and without doubt the ruler of the household.  Most have been female, but the characteristics of “catability” apply to the males as well.  We have had a couple of odd and contrary cats, but their annoyances were more than made up for by their quirky personalities.  The two dogs that have been members of our household have been equally clear on who is in charge; and when there have been more than one cat, there was the king or queen, beneath whom there was the viceroy feline, before anyone else had authority.

Cats are a wonderful mystery.  It is a hard thing to imagine ever not being part of one of their households.

May you all be blessed with the abundance of enough. . .

THis poem is the result of Wordle #58 from The Sunday Whirl