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The wind dances through the trees as I sit cozy in bed, kitten at my knees.
  A cream-colored ball of fur, with a boldly striped tail,
    (half raccoon, half Siamese, we like to tease).
      Her eyes are ice-blue, an incredible hue,
        dropped off at a kill-shelter at just four weeks old
          (a half-breed, not fit to be sold), with a heart of pure gold.
The thistle feeder taps the pane as the wind begins to rise,
   Gold finches hanging on for their lives,
            an avian carnival ride.
White caps chase across the lake,
    the water a deep blue brushed with quick-silver by some artist's hand,
       racing toward land.
A stark branch shudders as a solitary leaf flutters, twisting and spinning.

I wonder when it will lose its grip and drift, wafting to the ground
    without a sound, as gently as a feather, but brown as aged leather,
       another victim of the weather.
I hunker down to see the sky, while the kitten's purr-box is set on "high,"
      warm under my duvet, I begin to pray,
         reflecting on the vast experiences of my life,
             so filled with strife, a vast sea of tears through all those years.
Now life has shifted gears and I'm glad to be here,
    in this squat little house on a prime piece of land,
      the selfless love of a wonderful man,
        his mother a gift from above, showing me, finally, a true mother's love,
And the children:
       Kelly, the warrior, who must fight every day and learn every lesson the hardest way;
       Zach, the scholar, so much like my father,
       Baby-faced Ryan, raven hair and big blue eyes, our rock-star on the rise.
And for all this I thank God, for the serenity and peace,
     (no matter how brief)
And then the twisting leaf finally lets go, fluttering past the window,
      waving goodbye,
        riding the north wind's sigh.
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