Cats

Cattails in my Coffee

While calmly sipping coffee of a morn,
And contemplating on why I was born,
I watch the cat climb softly to my lap
To primp and preen, then settle down to nap.

As he begins to wash his whiskery face
He will not keep his wandering tail in place.
And while it’s waving wildly in the air
I try to track it down-it’s never there.

It wiggles to the left as I reach right
And rebounds again in rhythmic delight.
I resume my reaching as it rises up,
Then comes down to coil in my coffee cup.

The tabby turns translucent eyes on me
As if to tell me, “There! now do you see?
If not for you my tail would still be dry.
Why can’t you humans be as calm as I?”

And cleaning caffeine off his copious fur,
He curls into a ball, begins to purr.
A call upon his dreams he plans to keep,
So he proceeds to promptly fall asleep.

Sharon Brown, 1975

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7y5Bdt3cF9Q

 

Two CatsTwo Cats
One up a tree
One under the tree
The cat up a tree is he
The cat under the tree is she
The tree is witch elm, just incidentally.
He takes no notice of she, she takes no notice of he.
He stares at the woolly clouds passing, she stares at the tree.
There’s been a lot written about cats, by Old Possum, Yeats and Company
But not Alfred de Musset or Lord Tennyson or Poe or anybody
Wrote about one cat under, and one cat up, a tree.
God knows why this should be left for me
Except I like cats as cats be
Especially one cat up
And one cat under
A witch elm
Tree.