late winter sunrise has no sound
it happens after the zen music of my alarm
the cat's insistent purring
the snap, crackle, pop of my aging joints
I too stretch before leaving the night's downy warmth
from the kitchen, a feeble meow invites me to hurry
he pounces quickly on my uplifted left leg
hanging like a trophy from my ankle
my first words are "good boy..."
before breakfast
[2012.12.1...a]
You've captured a nice moment, Alfred, I can picture it clearly. My cat often hurries me along to the kitchen in the morning, with meows and occasional bats to my ankles.
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