A Lazy Cat Curled In Sun: The Second Coming

Monday 1 August 2011

By John Niven.

Read in an afternoon.

Damn Fine Writing.

Inspired By....

Red sap runs in me,

says clock time’s a farce,

only the roll past of seasons,

hunt for water, sun, food

turns the blood,

turns the blood true.

Walk out,

see me as I see you

in a restless, run-ahead way,

sight like a dog let loose

gone lickety split down the road

who won’t easily be called home.

Hearing waits, lags behind seeing,

a lazy cat curled in a corner,

stores up birdsong to savor later.

Grains are wind merchants,

ripples bent on commerce,

transacting new destinations,

hope to be lifted off stalk and stem.

Seed scatters like prodigals,

they already plan their next lives.

The soul wants transplant like that

sudden, stunningly flung out

but the body is wary, quakes and clings.

Where I root, it is loose,

temporary, an easy tug,

almost an aerobe, nomad of thought and ethers.

Pine sees me as gadfly

foolish, moving too often,

not honoring place.

Stones’ wisdom,

if on a giant’s path, pray his step

be light, soon pass you over.

Rabbit warns

when storms begin

seek shelter, eat often.

*Red Grain moon ~ Dale Harris*

A Lazy Cat Curled In Sun