First Saturday of the Year that is New. Candles in teacups blaze and writhe with fire.It's fold outside and Smokey waits at the door. Spencer flicks his paws against the constant sog. I'm afraid I always seem to be posting pics of cats. Well, they seem to be the most visible. Especially in winter. Always staring in the door. Watching the elves make a break for it. Again. They were bored I guess. Decided to go sledding. Just too excited to try something new in the new year.
And the cats watched.
"I'm here". Well, Smokey seems to always be here. He DOES go home.Really he does. As does Spencer. But they show up every morning. Every noon. Every afternoon or early evening. Very reliable. We seem to communicate.Flick Flick. Goes Spencer with the wet paws.
Spencer sits and listens. Watches. It's drier on the porch.
Smokey is the brave one. He ventures out in the skiff of snow. Spencer does not like his paws wet. He sits in his pot. HIS moss basket. Flick Flick. He watches me sweep snow from the porch.
The Year of New is quiet. The drifting snow, that will not last. And Cordelia. Perched like an angel on the Moai. Just like last year. Flick Flick , goes Spencer. Settling on his pot of moss.
Year of New has new things. Projects to do. Fabric to cut. Yarn to twist into a dozen things.
The elves have come in from their day of sledding. Tuckered out.
They like to lie by the fire and chill. Like cats.
And some , in grey fur, dance and leap for joy in snow that will melt. Just because. Just because it is good to be happy. Wet paws and all. FLick Flick.
"With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?" (Oscar Wilde)
No comments:
Post a Comment