Nine Lives



The Cat lay sprawled, rag dolled

in a warm splash of late winter light

the morning, ending but still streaming

friendly and blue-skied, sun beaming

through the glazing;

carelessly brushing the sink

and taking pause on the kitchen floor

blessing in their turn the patient linoleum tiles:

two travelling blinding squares of sun showered shingles

Unwittingly our feline becomes a snug sundial

I sit, scribbling scrabbling…

staring at the faded tabled blooms

but the outer azure sky lifts my spirits