HOUSECATS
Lisa Arsenault
Colchester, England
Two quiet housecats sitting in the open window
catching scents on the breeze with tiny twitching noses
and watching lightening flickering
in the low clouds of a stormy summer evening.
I imagine the cats are content, as I am, to sit quietly and listen
for the random whispered chords of connection
in this hurried human world.
I imagine they must be building stores of those notes
like squirrels’ acorns gathered and ferreted away for winter.
I imagine they enjoy all these moments apart
from the burdens of speaking and knowing,
existing by instinct and wonder,
without the need for explanation or purpose.
And I imagine, for a moment, I too am merely sniffing breezes,
gathering notes for winter,
innocent as a housecat
purring her simple prayers for the window.