Poems ✍️

Where ever Yellow Cat was
MoJo, the bear-like dog, was sure to be
Mostly asleep
But always ready to go.

Yellow cat was more house cat
Than outdoor, not feral for sure
Outdoors was for those bodily functions
That were best done in private.

But as dogs do,
Perhaps this also was the linkage
Between MoJo
And Yellow Cat.

In the living room
A pile of concrete blocks
Four high and carefully stacked
As only an Artist can,

A resting place for Yellow Cat
Above all, to survey and to sleep
Yellow cat as cat's do
Found it to be, the place to be.

He could not stretch out to his full length
No. Tail draped over the end,
Legs extended into space, head dangling,
He slept and MoJo kept a careful eye.

With time
Gravity took its sway
Weight distribution
Played a key.

Slowly, slowly, slowly
(Perhaps Yellow Cat's rhythmic breathing)
Moved the resting mass
Toward the floor.

Like a slow moving lava flow
Or perhaps the creep
Of a shadow, Yellow Cat was in motion.
Unbeknownst to him.

Should you awaken him,
Alert him to impending doom
Or watch how Nature adjust
To the force of gravity?

Like a drop of molasses
(Syrup of the Southern kind)
The drip which was Yellow cat
Shifted its weight.

Until, friction no longer held
And the whole of Yellow Cat was in motion
Unperceived, for he
Was as only cats can, Slept on.

Gravity rules
And down he slid.
Awake at last
Before his head hit the floor

He awoke
Extending front legs in perfect timing
He stood and stretched
For sure, he had planned just this.

MoJo raised his massive head and watched
A game was to be played.
For Yellow Cat
Was on the move.

Outdoors beaconed
The “cat's door” carefully placed
In the screen door
Was the exit to another world.

Out. Out he went to business only a cat can do.
But what of MoJo, friend and companion
All 80 pounds in a rush
Passed through the “cat's door”.

I know not how.

Friends.