Mistletoe
Mini, musical meowing, eight weeks old, smaller than
Icicles hanging from the porch, she slips into the
Snowbanks, a frock of fluffed-out fur, dashes in, nestles on
Tissue paper, a tiny tiger with stripes of gray, now pouncing on
Lights blinking, there-gone, there-gone, where? her
Eyes a green mirror of mine, now she is
Tangled in tinsel, crouching butt-wiggle, batting
Ornaments and chewing ribbon, scaling our
Everest of a tree, my Christmas kitten I named Mistletoe.
12/19/18
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2018
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