[Jack Deth]

For All The Cat~People Of Amy's Place



Curiosity





A broken wicker basket full of dry grass can make an excellent bed
Unless there's a large, soft flannel blanket about to rest your weary head
Which is what my little sister, Jasmine relishes under a full Moon's glow

As Trees cast long, splintered shadows across a sea of glistening snow
That is a topic of discussion that we haven't quite figured out yet
When the Stable Horses tell us that it's dry and soft, yet turns cold and wet
As clumps of the dry, white stuff fall from their tall, tautly muscles legs

To slowly melt and disappear before any unanswered question I could beg
Leaving me in a bit of a quandary as Jasmine stretches and yawns luxuriantly
I've decided to talk to the Horses for more clues to this puzzling mystery!



Jack Deth ~ 01/09/10.

[jaycee]

Very nice, Jack!

[LucyT]

Awww, meow, meow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vf9wHkkNGUU

[yorkie]

“Talk to the horses”........I love this poem, Jack!

[luvie]

Awww...so sweet, Cat Man!

[yorkie]

Your poem brought to mind this one, by James Elroy Flecker:

Yasmin

A Ghazel

How splendid in the morning grows the lily: with what grace he throws
His supplication to the rose: do roses nod the head, Yasmin?

But when the silver dove descends I find the little flower of friends
Whose very name that sweetly ends I say when I have said, Yasmin.

The morning light is clear and cold: I dare not in that light behold
A whiter light, a deeper gold, a glory too far shed, Yasmin.

But when the deep red light of day is level with the lone highway,
And some to Meccah turn to pray, and I toward thy bed, Yasmin;

Or when the wind beneath the moon in drifting like a soul aswoon,
And harping planets talk love’s tune with milky wings outspread, Yasmin,

Shower down thy love, O burning bright! For one night or the other night,
Will come the Gardener in white, and gathered flowers are dead, Yasmin.