I have been laying around with the flu for a few days and the fur kids have joined me. And I finally had a clear enough head to pen this little poem.
Every ponder the continence of the cat
The poetry of their little nose
Their prim little mouths
The tear drop corners of their eyes.
How perfect every hair
Their direction and length
Funnels around each whisker
Never ruffled up.
Little Buddhas in fur coats
With inscrutable expressions
Zen wizards purring on our laps
Unaware of our stares.
Or do they just grace us
With the glory of their presence
So we can stare at them
Give them their due.
(c) J. Binford-Bell
If you have a poem for us this week leave me your url here or 360 on on Twitter. A lot of people here in blogland seem to have the flu so attendance this week is light or perhaps just slow. Or I was slow to get poems linked in. Promise better next week.My So Called Life
Shouting at Street Lights