It's been a while since I posted a tale, and I feel one wagging, though I cannot see it. Just a kind of swish behind me, the air disturbed by thoughts not realized ...
I've been working on a poem, a long one, and I stopped and let life happen, as it does, and lost track a bit ...
The poem is important ...
(but so is life .... Cashmere meows this as she passes, glances at her food bowl, then the porch door, up at me, rolls on her back, digs her claws into the back of the hand that scratches her belly, stretches, then up and out the door...)
So I should write...or run ... or work ...
Sometimes Cashmere comes in from outside ... I could be busy ... perhaps on the toilet ... and she will come in, rub her body along my right calf, then run for the porch door (I assume, for she is nowhere when I leave the bathroom) and becomes one with the universe...
I think she is just checking to see if her family remains here for her, to feed her, to scratch her belly, to sleep with (whether at my feet, or on my belly, or curled between my chin and my chest), and to commesmerize on the world within. Just a quick check, and then on with her business.
She complains when I go to work, and if she is outside when I come home, she lets me know her displeasure when I walk to my door, meowing loudly her complaints. She will stand outside the now open door, and tell me her thoughts. I, ofcause, invite her in, and she, ofcause, refuses. She just wants to make sure I understand. She knows her voice.
Why does she dig her nails in to my skin when we most show love to each other?
Enough of my random thoughts for now. Cashmere has decided to lay upon the backs of my hands while I type this little distraction from my remaining day. She's decided I've written enough.
So, acquiesing, I finish thinking of the next lines of my poem, and of the scarf I will make of Cashmere's fur coat, someday.....
Unknown "Winnie's Poet" Peaceful
- 16 years, 6 months, 28 days ago