The First Song of the Morn, a Poem

How a cat goes about her first day of the year, translated…

Using the Sunlight, Turning it into a Fortress

With the Bird Calls Becoming the Moat

The Wind, the Catnip, the Milk

I’m Certain that She Doesn’t Know, that This, is the First Morning of 2017

The First Morning

feeding time!!!  Not my photograph…

She’d, Made the Pillows Fluffed Up

Went, to Groom Herself

In a Very Relaxed Pace

At Seven O’Clock in the Morn

She’d Already, Celebrated the Whole Night

(As Each and Every Night Became a Huge Celebration)

The Toys that Children Kicked Around

“it’s raining, and I can’t go out…”  Not my photograph…

The Fish Made of Felt, with the Scent of Chamomile

At Seven in the Morn

The Cat Slept, on the Quieted Years

The Years Don’t Make Those Fur Balls Appear on Her

In a Song from the Morn, I’d Heard Her

Purred on, Like How, a Small Boat Was, Rowing Closely by

This would be, the interaction of a cat and her owner, and, although, humans may have a sense of a different year, a different day, but animals, they just, live every day like the last day they’d managed to, finish up.

a cat meowing, photo from online…






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