Tag Archives: warm

More cat stuff

 

Yep, another cat poem. I can’t help writing about them. They’re always sitting on me.

 


 

The cat is simmering on my legs
A tub of purring fur.
My feet are toasty
In the blanket cave underneath her magma belly.
Toasty feet are happy feet.
This heat could never burn me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

How cold is it?

 

It’s so cold outside.

“How cold is it?”

It’s so cold, I couldn’t go for a run, or even a walk, without turning right around and going back inside.

It’s so cold it was not a one-pants, not a two-pants, but a three-pants day.

It’s so cold that my house window was iced shut.

It’s so cold that Cowdog Creatives’ car refused to open its door and afford me shelter. 

It’s so cold that I could lean my weight against the bitter wind and lose my eyesight at the very same time.

It’s so cold that if I opened my mouth to talk, the wind on my teeth felt like biting ice cream.

It’s so cold that work sent an email blast giving us tips on how to dress warm. Apparently layering is key?? Do I wear my waterproof jacket on the inside or the outside layer? Are gloves a good idea? Still confused on how to dress warm, need more help.

 

And it’s just. Getting. Colder.

 

When I was a kid, I loved the cold. I was just brimming with vitality, and layered with brown fat, a little living toaster. I always warmed my friends’ hands for them. My resistance to cold was a point of pride. But I’m just getting older and wimpier with each passing day. I prefer bed to everything. Bed is warmest. If I must leave the house, you’d better believe I’ll be wearing my hat and scarf and gloves and several outfits.

I blame the cats. They sleep on my feet every night and keep me warm, thus raising my heat threshold. In the words of every old man I’ve read about but never met, I’m gettin’ soft. Need to start sleeping on the floor, it’s good for the back.

Oh God I just aged again didn’t I?? It happens when you stop paying attention!

I tell Cowdog Creatives that we must never let errant gas escape us without the other calling us out on it. I don’t want belches and farts to stop being funny. I don’t mind the wrinkles and I really don’t mind the cold but please, don’t let the farts stop being funny.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

The Human Trap

Something about the coziness of a sleeping cat is sacred
And must not be disturbed.
They get miffed if you have the gall to wake them up,
Because they know the natural order of things.
I can wake a human with cold conscience
But a cat?
Curled into a warm ball,
Melted into my lap,
With an upturned happy little cat smile.
Impossible.
I’ll just have to stay here forever.
Nothing is as important
As letting the cat sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Stepmother Fire

Stepmother to the primal man

her smoke winds upward

her smile bites down

into hardwoods, conifers

animal or man alike

inert or alive

makes no difference to her

she will devour.

elemental

transparent

digestion open to view

leaves, twigs, paper, logs

all shrivel

she sucks vital fluids

until the remains are featherweight,

mummy dry,

fragile flaky feces.

her life cycle tumbles quickly through

all the stages

from heat to spark to smolder to flame

to bonfire and bigger

no matter how much space she covers

she is never satisfied

she eats herself out of an area

starves, fades, passes away.

In the wake

of her carnage and consumption

humanity warms itself

gratefully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

When the world is first frostbitten

 

When the world is first frostbitten

tender trees touched in thin ice

When summer shows its back

abandoning you for a faraway land

When winter’s wan face smirks at your peephole

hard fingernails tapping your door

knowing it will soon be strong

enough to crack your lock and let itself in

When everything disintegrates into blue and white and crispy brown

and the wind, mad surgeon, lacerates your summer softened skin

 

then the clouds part

affording you

one

glimpse

of heavenly light

a welcoming patch in which to stand

 

When you know you are about to lose it for good

that is when the warmest sun shines