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)