
weeds
to the seeker’s eye
diminutive perfection
Gaia’s masterpiece
~kat
Just a few snap shots from my walk today. ❤️

weeds
to the seeker’s eye
diminutive perfection
Gaia’s masterpiece
~kat
Just a few snap shots from my walk today. ❤️

I rise amidst a sea of green
dawn emerging through the trees
a gentle breeze, leaves a-flutter
my sleepy eyes take in the scene
sunlight sparking like diamonds
mornings here are so serene
the happy sound of birds a-chatter
night to day, the in between
a place to pause, to deeply breathe
a gentle breeze, leaves a flutter
oh to linger here a while, to dream
~kat
Magic 11 poem – my variation on the Magic 9 poem, a 9-line poem that doesn’t have any rules as far as meter or subject matter–just a rhyme scheme: abacadaba. Enter the Magic 11 abracadabra poem with the r’s intact, placeholders for a refrain. Rhyme scheme: abRacadabRa. (R for the refrain).

I need to remind you, Matilda my dear
it was you who chose me in late May of last year,
delivering four kittens underneath my old house.
I couldn’t just leave you like some heartless louse.
I rescued you, fed you, found everyone homes.
Now safe from the streets you are, never to roam.
But since you have joined my cat family, now six
you still run and hide, when I’m too close, you hiss!
It’s clear I’m your servant, there’s no doubting that,
slaving away while you sleep and grow fat!
Would it kill you, Matilda, to trust me a bit,
bring your feral butt over and let me love it?
I need to remind you, Matilda my dear
you chose well with me, you have nothing to fear.
~kat
I am a reluctant cat lady. I never planned to have SIX cats, but Matilda decided differently when she had her kittens under my front porch! We rescued two boys and a girl ( the white trio above) straight away. The boys mercifully are thriving with another family. The runt, our Frankie is growing like a weed! Matilda and her one all black kitten, Schrodinger, so named because he and his mum eluded capture for over a month, were on the lam long enough to develop a feral attitude! I’m happy to say that after a year they are just now allowing me to touch them lightly, briefly. Baby steps, consistency and a lot of patience is paying off! That makes three new kittens added to my aging brood, Casey (marble/white Tonkinese kitty, age 16), Sebastian (fluffy gray and white, age 18) and his brother Merlin (black and white, tuxedo coat, age 18). I didn’t plan to be a cat lady. But what’s a lover of creatures great and small to do?!
For NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 29: write a paean to the stalwart hero of your household: your pet.
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Coronavirus, sheltering in, social distancing. It’s hard to think about, write about, talk about anything else these days. But for the first time in my recollection, the world is united in its battle to contain the virus. I cannot remember a time when we shared a common adversary like this. Sure, there are issues that should unite us globally like climate change, poverty and hunger, world peace. Depending on our leadership, countries pick and choose their cause célèbre in posturing and political gamesmanship, but the virus is no respecter of geography, rank or status. We are all vulnerable; we are all affected.
We’re living in a “new normal” they say. I’m not entirely sure we will ever return to what we all considered normal normal. But that is okay with me, because here in the U.S. we have been devolving into an increasingly polarized nation where social distancing has become a way of life, each of us retreating behind the walled fortresses of our respective tribes. If there can be a silver lining in a pandemic it is perhaps this. We are all rallying now behind the heroes in this battle. The healthcare workers, the grocery store clerks, the delivery drivers, the restaurants who continue to feed us, take out or delivery, the first responders, the teachers who are finding new ways to engage our kids, the warehouse and factory workers who keep us supplied with essential needs. Heroes are the people who get things done and keep things going. And it matters not our politics nor our religious persuasion, nor our station, when we hear about another soul stricken, most of us pause, our hearts pricked in common sadness and for those that do, we say a prayer for those fighting for their lives and those downed in battle. We have said it before, we are more alike than we are different. These days we’re getting a hard lesson in that fact. And it’s caused us to be a more compassionate, kinder people. But for grace, because of it, we are all in this together. We need each other now, more than ever.
So do I want the old normal back? Uh, that would be a no, as long as we are able to maintain the bittersweet side effects that a global tragedy like this leaves behind. It gives me hope for us. I have always known we had it in us. It’s a beautiful thing to see!
But before I go, let me tell you about the photograph above. I took it through my window last night in the wee hours. The moon was muted behind light clouds, its beams streaming through the tall trees. It was so bright that it woke me up. When I took a closer look at the photo, “she” emerged, with a bright heart guiding her in the darkness. There’s a huge dark heart below her, but one barely notices it. The light averts our attention upward.
In the Christian tradition I grew up in, Easter was a big deal. The passion of the previous days leading up to a triumphant Easter morn. Of particular interest to me as I’ve grown older and a little wiser is the role that Mary Magdalene played. The face in my early morning photograph reminds me of her. Surrounded by darkness, consumed by love, I imagine her journeying to the tomb that darkest of mornings. She had no idea that dawn would emerge, a miracle. Still she pressed on. We don’t know how this is all going to end, but one thing I do know, thanks to my night visitor, no matter how dark it may be, love will guide us from the darkness to the dawn.
Stay safe, stay well, and stay kind. If the fates are willing, I’ll see you next week.
they all learned they were kindred then
psychotic, frenzied,
as (they) paused for a prayer
an invisible foe looming
trees bend with the wind
whistling
the greatest cure for all is love that’s deep
~kat
A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.
I used to live for weekends. We all did. During the week, 40 odd hours were not our own. We belonged to businesses, our bosses, the offices and cubicles, the worksites and workplaces that paid the bills and if we were lucky, we managed a few pennies to tuck away or spend on the glorious weekend. Our time.
But these days many of us find the lines blurred between work and home. Our weekend destinations are shuttered. We are rattle around in our houses forced to find new ways to entertain ourselves.
It’s hard not to write about this strange new normal we are all living. I suppose it is only normal to write from what one knows, and for me, for now, sheltering in, working from home, waiting for the storm to pass is what I know.
I used to think of myself as solitary, contemplative. I liked being at home, keeping to myself, but for daily conversations with the Muse and snuggling with my furry housemates. But when forced to shelter in place, home changed. It feel less and less like the sanctuary I once loved.
It takes effort to find new ways to notice my surroundings and to appreciate them. In fact, I am finding that there are all sorts of things I’ve never noticed before. Every moment is an opportunity to find the hidden treasures that have been here all along. I realize before this new reality, I had been living a superficial existence, content to exist on the surface of the familiar. But oh, the things I’ve missed in my busyness! I shall never take my freedom to move about in the world for granted going forward. But I have also fallen in love with the home that shelters and sustains me; the place that grounds me, where I can lay my head to sleep, the place where my soul keeps.
Happy Sunday. Stay safe and well. Peace…
i’m just listening to the wind
kitsch, in full, on crude display
crimson flushed, vexed by this calamity’s cruel din
it is quiet, oh so quiet, but for chattering birdsong, and rustling
don’t believe in everything you see
my mind won’t let me go to sleep
~kat
A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.