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, 3 months, 14 days ago

4AM - NAP’s Birthday
Bruce V. Baron, 1/30/08

You seek hands.

For touch beneath furry chin
you'll tail-whip face while purr-charging heart,
seeking soft strokes beneath
painted smiles.

Pushing defecating seat away
from face, you
meow displeasure,
then leap at hiding hand beneath pillow,
indignantly attacking desire.

My needs are not an issue.

Lifting hand from warmth of
beckoning, feathered sleep,
I lift you to chest
stroking diligently,
knowing happiness
means one less scratch –

knowing happiness
is,
at least,
one more stroke
of my hands.

Unknown "Winnie's Poet" Peaceful - 16 years, 9 months, 16 days ago

I need to start my day.

No. I need to get on with my day.

I started when I woke, then lay thinking of relationships. Cashmere heard my thoughts scattering from within my fluttering eyelids, and sat on my chest, pawing my face without claws.

I have been clawed before. Many times. My face has always hidden the marks nicely, but aged skin shrinks upon the scars and outlines their shapes.

She paws at my scars like they were tiny pieces of cardboard on the floor, there to pounce upon like practice prey. Perhaps I shouldn't trust her pawing, thinking it dirivitive of love.

Cashmere is a shimmery grey child. She purrs as she lactates her nails into my skin. She hurts me when she's happy. Sometimes she leaps upon my shoulders when I'm writing with my tips on keys, treating me as another ledge, curious about lights and sounds, demanding attention from my thoughts and screen.

I'm an animated, living tree, crying out in pain, looking at the back of my hand as I think to strike, then looking at her whiskered visual purr, feeling her face stroking my face, her nose nosing my nose, her comfort in positioning upon her perch. A silent laugh slips through clenched teeth, and I resign myself to her will.

I'm beginning to understand what not reacting can bring.

Time to shower and study and head start my week, then wait for another feline to arrive from the other coast, noticing me, embracing Cashmere, and using my friendship to ease her existance. Perhaps Cashmere will more than ease my existance.

Perhaps she'll help me to understand
Unknown "Winnie's Poet" Peaceful - 16 years, 9 months, 28 days ago