The last one was for the birds. This one’s for cats.

Bagheera Gives Me Advice

It's important to sit in the window
at least once a day,
every hair at attention,

drinking the joy of ordinary
movement.
And don't forget to eat

the magic of play --
let it infect you with curiosity, juice
your blood with stalkish

delight, flip a dull afternoon
to adventure.
Finally, remember

where you came from,
clutter and noise, heavy feet
cracking old stairs,

harsh voices breaking
black hallways.
That was the dark time,

Before,
the patient practice of making yourself
fit into

the smallest spaces.

Now, dear one, you can
unfurl and lie free,
like me, luxurious as

an out-
stretched hand
in the middle of the kitchen,

and talk and laugh
with your best friends,
and knit

delicious love
around us
out of your most

special
self.

Twenty Eight

Birds Punctuate the Days
        -- Joyce Clement

apostrophe
the nuthatch inserts itself
between feeder and pole
 
semicolon
two mallards drifting
one dunks for a snail

ellipses
a mourning dove
lifts off
 
asterisk
a red-eyed vireo catches
the crane fly midair
 
comma
a down feather
bobs between waves
 
exclamation point
wren on the railing
takes notice
 
colon
mergansers paddle toward
morning trout swirl
 
em dash
at dusk a wild goose
heading east
 
question mark
the length of silence
after a loon’s call
 
period
one blue egg all summer long
now gone

https://poets.org/glossary/haiku

the new cat shares my despair

the new black cat sits
waiting in the window for
the backyard to wake

for a week he hid
behind the furnace, afraid
of our sure attack

on the basement floor
the cold rose in me. I cried
flesh and bones melting

in February's
glacier. He will never love
us, I said. But at

last he crept out, lured
by a dancing string, by our
relentless use of

his new name, our song
of despair, and arched his back 
to my hand, answered

me with small cries like 
thin bells, rough chirps, complete 
capitulation

and now we are bound
by a wild need for touch
our darkest fears of 

being truly seen
solitary confinement
and abandonment

together we watch 
an old world stream past the glass
variations on 

a theme: winter's siege 
finally cracking, icy
rain's indifference, how 

it falls and falls on
a gray world, melting dirt down
into wormy blood

Suggested soundtrack: Robins.