From solstice to equinox;
it crosses winter’s ray.
Admired the woodchuck,
on his groundhog’s day.
Yet, the busy muskrat
chases Eternal clouds away.
Grassy tower stands…
it stirs, shifts, and sways.
Till… last of days.
“As water disappears from the sea,
And a river becomes parched and dries up,
So man lies down and does not rise.
Till the heavens are no more,
They will not awake
Nor be roused from their sleep.”
Job 14: 11-12
We know so much about the groundhog, but it’s the muskrat that stays awake all winter at water’s edge munching on grasses. He’s a busy little thing piling up a tower of reeds and marsh debris to make his cozy abode. I’d say there’s poetry in that… just as you will find over at dVerse, as poets use their imagination with a form of the word “poem”.
Cat died today, faithful felon of old: my foot warmer, security blanket, and endless friend. I’m unprepared for grief. Let the cat in, let the cat out is no longer a routine in my day. As day breaks with morning’s new sunrise I will ponder how to fill the empty corners of life.
“O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory.” With cat’s passing I ponder death and loss: the unborn, the war orphan and the unexpected loss. I’m told we shall not all sleep, instead be changed. This soul will be given a new body. I will weigh the balances of life and death.
As days and weeks melt this grief I choose to move forward. Embrace someone who suffers more than I. Grasp the hope of each new day. Yet in the crook of some days I’ll page through the memories of cat and I… cat died today.
Over at dVerse we’re investigating prose poetry. Dedicated to Rachael who lost her cat today and being encouraged by I Corinthians 15:55 I attempts the intangible… prose poetry.