The wild cat and the
illuminations
"Decay is rut, rust it seems
Decay is round around the seams
Decay is something I live with
Know not"
When Gordon J. was alive, I sailed.
He died and many sailboats now rest in my front yard.
I learned not to see them… until now.
The old wild black cat is here and eats the food,
Sleeps inside abandoned Mestiza, our Allegra,
wild sailing horse where I learned to be very quiet, very skilled at maneuvering the lines leading to the breezes.
wild sailing horse where I learned to be very quiet, very skilled at maneuvering the lines leading to the breezes.
Where I learned to be even more to lead the vessel in
stillness.
He shares the quarters with the wasps of Dauntless and
the honeysuckled deck of Mourning Star.
He does not hiss, he just jumps off in fear at close approach.
Yesterday, once again,
in his patience and in mine,
we sat by the boats
tiny diminishing distance apart.
I told him about my friend’s week, the birthday cake at work,
the storm coming, watch out for shelter, we may have Hobbes coming back to
live here, you should know.
Of course, the camera helped me to see them, the illuminations.
This morning I find Xaninho, the wild cat, under the bird feeder, waiting quietly.
