"The modern miracle isn't the star nor bread that turned to wine but the hunter and the queen upon one rug recline —"
- Poet
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yogi comes first my old companion burr-backed hearth-warmed his peat-dark spring fur shedding summer’s presence he lies on the fireplace rug squirrel-dream naps muzzle silvered as a frost-split hickory post a soft whine mute devotion shadowing me keeping a keen watch honest kind sportive soul glued to my side even in sickness another briar-choked ridge to crest hunter and chocolate lab and then gurty sovereign aloof moon-milk calico-born riddle velvet paws and stealthy grace a small Athenian goddess of the numinous who appears vanishes wistful-eyed moon fragment star-salt morning breeze she prowls each rooms edge dust-mice soft-footed serene indifferent granting affection, rationing light withheld offered only the queen knows a small sheathed killer making the world right by choosing not to strike between them household diplomacy two philosophies sharing sunbeams a duet of difference two cultures thickening smoothing yogi with his fawning tail-drunk joy gurty with her vigilance her whisker-quiver reading each moment for oneness he presses close she circles observing rubbing a synthesis of presence unconditional i have seen her groom herself in the soft ritual of sandy-tongue washing and him pause trustful patient her calm steadying him i have watched them soften the sandpaper-and-silk collision become friends family belonging where the good life abides night settles they lie in parallel lives at my feet yogi breathing his gentle snore gurty a moon fragment curled in thought and i smile loosen breathe mercy can curl or bound love a dog’s warm flank-heat a cats purring sovereign gaze and the small miracle of both choosing the same rug in the same deepening hour sweet yo-gurt
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