In the Company of Cats
I don’t do crowds well. A bit of a hermit am I.
Solitary. Except for the company of cats, that is.
And birds. And plants.
I have whole conversations with my succulents,
praising them when they produce
those great arching blooms, as pink
and plump as a baby’s fingers,
sprouting from concentric rings
of green flesh.
I like people. Don’t get me wrong.
But the songs, the whispers
of the muse, are drowned
out in a crowd.
I can’t hear the sounds of my own words.
No, give me the ultra-sonic speech
of Bisou, my “soft-focus” kitty,
who glows when the sun slants just so,
or the husky request of voluptuous Uma,
demanding to be loved,
or, at least, to be brushed.
Or the mockingbird singing —
why do they do this in the wee hours
of the night? I can only imagine
he’s guarding his acreage.
But maybe, he’s just delighted
with his own voice.
It’s in those moments of silence,
apart from the crowds,
when the melody of the world
somehow trickles into my ears,
and also into my dreams,
filling them both with the harmony
of nature’s grand symphony
and the conversation of cats.
Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies). Erika is also an editor for Mindfully Speaking.
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Photo and poem © Erika Burkhalter 2021. All rights reserved.