Kitty, Coffee, and Vivaldi

This is a moment claimed greedily

for coffee and music

in a moment

of stolen solitude;

My cat arrives, claims my lap,

the weight of her fur curling

and dropping in decision.

I set my coffee aside.

Warm aroma forgotten, out of reach.

I trace with my eyes

this maze of tiger stripes,

I muse on her simplicity of design,

and wild-cat charm.

She tells me the story of how

She was dipped in coffee color

And swirled around until the stripes came out right,

With just enough cream and a dash of pink paint for her nose.

Today I indulge her with time and hands that caress.

She transitions from mere comfort

to that realm of silly nirvana

that only kitties laying on their heads know.

The moment is over.

My coffee is cold, and I am left

with a lap full of fur

without the charm.

©2008 Donna Jo Wallace.