When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
Cats sleep, anywhere,
Any table, any chair
Top of piano, window-ledge,
In the middle, on the edge,
Open drawer, empty shoe,
Anybody's lap will do,
Fitted in a cardboard box,
In the cupboard, with your frocks-
Anywhere! They don't care!
Cats sleep anywhere.
At the bottom of my garden
There's a hedgehog and a frog
And a lot of creepy-crawlies
Living underneath a log,
There's a baby daddy long legs
And an easy-going snail
And a family of woodlice,
All are on my nature trail.
There are caterpillars waiting
But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands
gloved with green. You can have the touch of a single eleven-year-old finger
on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back.
You can have the purr of the cat and the soulful look
of the black dog, the look that says, If I could I would bite
every sorrow until it fled, and when it is August,
you can have it August and abundantly so. You can have love,
though often it will be mysterious, like the white foam
that bubbles up at the top of the bean pot over the red kidneys
until you realize foam's twin is blood.
My father used to say,
"Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow's grave
nor the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self reliant like the cat --
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth --
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
Playing in sunshine
is a twirling girl and cat
Meows and laughter
Romping away sweet moments
until the day is drowsing
In tall green grasses
pretty kitty's soon sleeping
in shadows of day
The orange sun's retreating
Mimi is my fond, constant companion, my nearest and dearest loyal friend,
Mimi makes golden, precious days brighter, like orange sun that never ends.
Mimi has the rare gift for loving, that causes one to respond in like fashion,
For if you knew her, you'd love her too, as jade nature loves to distraction.
On Pear Street, people ofttimes stare, for Mimi's a raving beauty, no doubt;
Like the varicolored blooms of halcyon summer, are admired on any route.
Mimi is definitely the quiet type, someone it is very pleasant to be around,
Frisky kitty is in fresh, velvety flowers,
Dancing all the honeyed bloom hours.
As song drifts from the secret bowers,
Lacy clouds waft and the sun smolders.
Kitty courses in color and sweet odors,
The spell of youth has strange powers,
In greener days that happiness towers,
Until sun grows mellower and mellower.
Running with the breeze
Gray cat and blue butterflies
Orange sunset skies
Zest meets curiosity
just to hear the ocean roar
drift far on the floral air
as time slips away
A cool cat is at the shore
cat's in the tulips
taking an afternoon snooze
scents are wandering
the sun's warm caress
touches the world of colors
red butterflies flit
and the world keeps on turning