Whimsy
Whimsy catches the wind
Like a fall leaf, orangered and guileless
And enters the house
Like a cat, confident but cautiously curious
To whatever it is that has made the wind.
As she catches sight of herself in the mirror,
Her colorful hues glimmering,
She smiles knowing how numbered her days
While lingering still in the present, ‘till
With a gentle purr and flick of her tail she is gone.
Once a door is opened
The wind will oblige for as long as it may
Circulating in with the new, and out with the old
As whimsy rides on leaving her subtle scent
Musty as old leaves, musky as a Puss in Boots.
Cats are unique in having their own minds
A quality of solitary life
Even as they put on their royal airs,
Leaves on the other hand have no minds
Nor life once they have fallen.
Seasons after all flow like clockwork
To the rhythm of an unknown Maker
Mysterious only in the little things
How long a leaf or cat might linger
On a wind felt but never seen.
(11/9/24)
Copyright © James Moore | Year Posted 2024
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