Just cats, with allusion to Blake, and a non fiction, "Tribe of Tiger," by Marshall. |
Sleeping with cats, by john erik ege version 1.5 when needing to shift is painfully delayed for fear of disturbing them, you become aware of the night, an honorary member of tiger's tribe. small, warm bodies pressed firmly against the back, against a thigh, on top of a foot, and another using a hand as a pillow; they all have their place, this hierarchy of cats. sometimes quarrels disturb the peace a slap, a low pitched moan, even a chase but they always discover an arrangement that suits their needs at the time, whether for comfort, grooming, or companionship this is humanity’s pride, Daniel’s dream, only size differs. whisker's twitch, muscles quiver, tails flex hints of a dreaming life and adventures we're not privy to do they hunt in their dreams? the intensity of focus while stalking no zen master can emulate: it’s a lesson in present living. is this bond we share love? too easy to humanize them, especially while they sleep tamed? perhaps, but are any of us truly? their tiny bellows keep the spark burning, mere candles compared to the flames in the forest. man’s duplicity should be more feared than the cat’s perfect symmetry their intent is clearly spoken with a wave of a tail, a folded ear, a whisper- if only I could suspend these human thoughts for something more primal, pure I might share this moment, this space, this night, find communion with something alien before I, too, give in to sleep, still wanting until the sun intrudes, slowly etching across the bed. they stretch, arch backs, flex claws, and yawn. they nuzzle, pushing cheek against chin, kneading my side until I awake to the new day. “bringer of food” is proceeded by his clan, as they run like sprites to the eating place. |