Transitions

Getting ahead seems like
an impossibility when tripped up
by pain, most foul, smile

I laugh in the face of discomfort
There is no position to ease the fire
in my back.

On futon, on mattress, on couch, on floor,
on mat, on carpet, no more no more.

I’ve a sleeping cat on my thighs
He creeped in to give/steal warmth
as they do.

Life without cats is too quiet
too boring, I love the little tornadoes
they stir up after midnight.

Little howls and growls
big crash and a boom
My climber rings the bells
hanging from the doorknob
because he can.

Life without cats is like
life without children
not full, not spontaneous.

I can watch the snow fall
thinking of Girlie’s upturned face
mouth open, eyes closed
her red cold hand clasped in mine
she needs to feel the snow
“Cold-cold,” she says.

I bought her a hat and mitten set.
She promptly put them on her stuffed dog.
A cute, kitten hatted and gloved hound.

Toddler logic says play along
“Woof woof is cold.”
Sigh, she has a coat with a hood.
I would not give up this life if asked.
My children I would keep every time.

That is love, pure love
I stare at the natural bliss of a child
hoping for nothing to ruin it.