I got my hair cut Wednesday.
Lynne talked as she plied her trade.
A kitten was born on her doorstep-
Strange how the world is made.

Online Lynne read that mother cats
often give birth at your door.
Coincidences abounded.
Does death abound even more?

If mother cats know about doorsteps,
do they know which people to choose?
Is a cradle worth less than a manger?
To save your life must you lose?

Lynne wasn’t supposed to be there.
Her shop was closed that day
That’s a door she never uses.
What drew her so far astray?

Mother cat had chosen most wisely.
No doorstep was better than Lynne’s.
But can one this young survive?
Are babes blotched with original sins?

Extraordinary measures
for extraordinary things are required.
Lynne fed every fifteen minutes.
Loving never makes one tired.

Lynne spent forty eight hours
wrestling with God for this child.
Vets, internets and eye droppers
saved it from the law of the wild.

Hope is the name she gave her.
Hope is what saw her through.
Stronger hour by hour-
Death had been cheated anew.

Now she is sleeping so soundly
with covers snuggled up to her head.
Lynne looks and loves her fondly,
then sees that she is dead.

So I sit and hear this story.
Lynne brings Hope in her tiny box.
The sight of her rips my heart open
Like a raft ruined on ragged rocks.

She finished with my haircut
ignoring all my tears.
Today I sit and write this
with the help of a few beers.

How can this have happened
Is it part of the Master’s plan?
Malt much more than Milton
justifies God’s ways to man.

my apologies to A.E. Houseman and his poem “Terrence This is Stupid Stuff”