Malcolm The Cat

The sleet quietly turned into snow in the night. Nothing moves on the road, like the snowy mornings of old. The snow deadens sound, but I see our fat cat has emerged from his house on the porch to observe the day. He has a rug and shelter under the overhang. His dish is empty. I warm up some broth left over from our Christmas Day Beef Bourguignon and drizzle it over his food, now fit for the king cat he is. A morning like this makes one feel lazy as a cat in the sun.  

Things cats can teach us:

Be curious but cautious
Pay attention to the weather
Sharpen your claws but know when to run
Know your friends.
You can see in the dark when you walk in the dark
Eat slowly then wash your face.

Happy New Year writers and poets and friends extraordinaire, especially those at earthweal where you will find poetry for and of a changing world.

A Writer's Life

I rouse the cat from his house
with a thump on the roof
He stretches his double-thumbed feet
and emerges from his bed.
I fill his dish with Rachel Ray's
premium blend and he follows me
out to the chicken coop.
The water is frozen.
Inside the chickens are warm
and the trough is dry and empty.
They titter totter down the ramp to the outdoors
with straw stuck to their feet
(those feet that make a healing broth)
and I scatter feed and fill the water as the cat watches.
You take care of your animals before you take care of yourself—
childhood admonishments stick in my head
as things from childhood do.
Part and parcel of this adult package
I would be less without.
Once orphaned we all take our seats
at the adult table. So I fill my coffee cup
sit at an empty table with a blank page
and think about what I will write today.



This little walk through morning chores is linked to Earthweal's open link weekend. Sunday, remember, is a day of rest, even for farmers, writers and environmental activists!

Malcolm the Cat

Malcolm the cat sits beside the fence

and watches the chickens scratch and peck.

He watches the man fill the water bucket

and scatter the feed.

The sky is gray with March snow,

spring held at bay by an out-of-whack vortex
trees unable to bud, 

birds unable to sing,

crocus unable to bloom.

But Malcolm the cat washes his face and licks his paws and waits.