A Cat's Company (9-1-08)

It is that hour in the morning
when the curving, spine-elated tail
twitches at the end of a nose
cast about in a furred coat.
Whisker kisses become impressed
against the feathered wind.

The snowfall wraps white
dander about a pole
where covered paws are
braced apart
at intervals
down a peddler's street.

The flakes are frosted drops
spilling over from a bowl
set beside a table
where the clever faces
make love to its corners
in the middle of the night.