Jewish High Holy Days are very early this year, probably as early as they can be. I prefer when they are later, when one can wear a sweater and a serious dark skirt, not something semi-summery.
But I love fat orange cats in any season. FatLanders, unsurprisingly, love cats. (Although there are also quite a few who love dogs, as well.)
Autumn says its first hello
Frannie Zellman
Autumn says its first hello
Autumn is lush, graver than summer
Summer asks for bright hot
summer shows anger
Is this how you spend your time,
it yells.
Autumn does many kinds of orange
sweeps toward rust
darker undersides
Autumns evenings circle
summer evenings pounce
Autumn sweaters purr
You rub your cheek against them
as if autumn knew, somehow
that all you want in this life
is to imitate
a not-very-bright or ambitious
fat orange cat
who rubs and rubs against their human
and meows
on autumn nights
wide and still with new cold
when it comes time to run in.
Yes and yes! I love this poem. Also, you know I'm quite fond of comparing autumn, my favorite season, with cats, my favorite animal. Somehow, it works beautifully. :)
ReplyDeleteI was thinking of you when I wrote it, dear Lesleigh:)
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