He was sleeping in a square
of winter sunlight, forepaws
nested in the depths of his
luxurious tail, a circle of fur.
Now he bestirs himself
to settle near my feet
beneath the desk.
I reach down to scratch
between his ears.

He looks up and mews.
What is he thinking?
Can he see me as I see him—
just there, completely there,
at peace with all there is,
or all he knows there to be.
Simply there and wonderfully
Cat.

—EPA

(The latter poem by Elaine Parker Akin
was written about Elaine’s cat, Spanky.
Needless to say, it was composed with affection. )