Tonight, by the light of the quarter moon we walk. The wind is rising. Pixie and Max are sheltering, warm in the kitchen. Only Elmo follows. The moon is almost bright enough to pick out his flame coat and he looks well, sleek. He watches over Her as they walk, and talks to himself, to Her, singing a cat song to the moonshadow cat who keeps pace beside him. Starlight.
Starbright.
The ground is shattered and splintered beneath the trees, shadow and moonlight, silver and dark.
I call, on the edge of the wind, on the edge of memory, a feint cat cry in the wind. And I walk with them too, ghost cat, watchful, shadow and moonlight.
Such exquisite poetry for all the senses, especially those of the heart where the ghost cats leave their paw prints- mine are Cindy, Mindy and the beloved Pumpkin.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, just beautiful! Love your description of the moon shining on the ground.
ReplyDeletePerhaps he's talking to remind himself too of those who once walked with him in the starbright, starlight.
ReplyDeleteDon't blame Pixie and Max tho', it must be chilly still.
I hope you are ok too, remembering those now gone who once walked with you.
Lovely and sad.
ReplyDeleteKat
This made me cry.
ReplyDeleteFor Maurice, for Rusty, for Josh...for all my ghosts.
"They" say it eases with time. I say "not always."
they say that cats have nine lives-I do not believe that-they live forever as long as someone loves them.
ReplyDeleteLovely post. Our heart cats never truly leave us but grace our world in shadow from time to time.
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me - sketches are done, now doing some light studies. I'll put the Ghost Cats to paper this year, so help me!
ReplyDelete