five am the cat wakes
urges me — gurgles
pats, cries — to rise
follow her downstairs
she pees, eats kibble
waits while I make tea
dives into my hoodie
naps until six fifteen
dawn is cloud clear
yellow orange pink
shifting farther south
geese vee honking
ducks swirl the docks
I fry bacon, one egg
spoon her canned food
the fed cat washes
licks my bacon lips
weasels back inside
the soft gray zippered
fleece stretches
round her shape
Two Pewits
by Edward Thomas
Under the after-sunset sky
Two pewits sport and cry,
More white than is the moon on high
Riding the dark surge silently;
More black than earth. Their cry
Is the one sound under the sky.
They alone move, now low, now high,
And merrily they cry
To the mischievous Spring sky,
Plunging earthward, tossing high,
Over the ghost who wonders why
So merrily they cry and fly,
Nor choose ’twixt earth and sky,
While the moon’s quarter silently
Rides, and earth rests as silently.
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