Photo & Poem by Donald Anderson

Feather Daydreams

How does my cat think?
What reinventions flow breezily,
whimsies of surprise whereupon
all objects are to be gravitated down
and all paper torn and chewed.

Upon early morning
a resonant crashing lamp is normal.
Upon scroll or text expected
is push against furred paw.

Feeding time is a wakeup call,
acupuncture back treatment.
Rubbed obstacle course
is not-tripped water bowl.

Open windows are gravity sunlight
perking ears and eye witnessed
excited, expectant, before-pounce silence.

Enthralled I sense adrenaline
pulse races searching scent or sound
of treasure, fur, feathers.

I mouth out mew
lost in forethought,
a salivation on carne asada,
of crunch.

Full bellied pleasing nip.
Rubs of warm coat.
Quietly, quietly (tongue click)
creep towards hidden chirp.