It is I, the cat.
I sit and patiently wait
to swipe at the dog.

How I love to sit
beneath you
and let your
gentle, slender branches
surround and protect me.
Like a loving touch,
your beautiful green boughs
reach out to reassure me,
I am not alone.

I am the cat.
          move me
and I come back
          move me
and I come back
          move me
and I come back.

I can never tell
if you are laughing
or if you are crying,
Seagull.

The gentle wings
of a butterfly says little
of its inner strength.

Car alarms and crying
Beeps and burbles
Tweets and giggles
All up in the crab apple tree.
Even your name is befuddling.
Cat Bird.

you arrive pure white
pushing through the still cold ground
a growth that brings hope.

I've watched you
all winter, holding your beauty close.
Protecting it from the snow and cold
in your grey-green fuzzy casing.
When the time is right,
you release that protection.
Giving you the freedom to unfold your splendor.
Like hands opening.
Like fingers uncurling.
There is hidden beauty in our winter.

The stars hold our hopes,
our dreams, our wonder.
We look up and we see endless.
We see expanse.
We see tomorrow, we see yesterday.
The stars are us.
The stars are us.

Cleanse me
Free me
Cool me
Your rhythm soothes me
Rain.

It is I,
the Cat,
who sneaks into your room
and opens the dresser drawer
so that I may sleep deep inside.
Please let me out.

I am not bleak
I am not barren
I am the canvas
on which life
is built.

Oh what lengths you travel,
and at such heights.
Running along limbs,
jumping the gap.
The trees are your highway
connecting  you to a world
that we can only look up to see,
Squirrel.