Sledding with Cats

Sledding with Cats

Circling in white whirling sand,

old eyes blinded by the summer,

and numb feet in hard shoes

cannot tell it’s snow.

A car drives by on a silent street,

ghost at the wheel

singing a thirty year old song

thinking it’s still

alive.

The house, it’s empty, still.

Against the wall, a sled rusts,

propped by children’s hands

against a snowy day

long gone,

too many calculators and keyboards ago.

Still, in the granite sky

ten clouds make a wall

where the sun guards his back

and holds as best he can that high ground

against an empire of Cold

knowing what he loses one day

on another he'll win.

A child gets out

another sled, and finds another

hill, another child, another winter,

leaning against the door

and cries out loud the news

so even ghosts can hear.

And a dog that knows no better

drags her woman relentlessly

through cold frozen drizzle in

an infinite orgy of

evergreen canine spring.

Inside warm windows

cats are laughing.

Fall and Winter, 2010*

Posted for    MeetingtheBar:Martian Style   at dVerse Poets Pub

Originally posted for Magpie Tales, #44

*For those who may think some of the lines are familiar, this poem is composed in part of recycled and expanded bits and pieces of micropoetry and twitter haiku written over the course of the last few months.