Signs of Spring 2003

When the weather is warm,
No cats come to my bed,
No cozying up to my feet,
No nose tucking in soft bellies
Tight little squirrel-like circles.

They prefer instead the
Wide, rough boards of
A cool windowsill,
Noses in the air,
Catching a scent of new-born mice
Or, perhaps heat-driven couplings
In the dark.

Then, too, there are those who
Prefer a languorous glide along the carpet
Stretching, dissipating the warmth of their
Born-in fur coats.

Yet, it's early still, this springtime.
Before dawn they come creeping,
Nosing under the covers,
Draping across my body;
Regenerating the toasty of their toes
Warming me so that I toss off the blankets
And turn them out for breakfast.

© Kathleen LaFrance 2003