My Cat is the World
Outside, on the first sunny day after days of rain
My cat noses into the breeze.
As the world streams towards him
He streams towards it,
Each sniffing and stretching to touch the Other
That harbors the truth of itself.
The flutter of leaves, a bird's sudden chirp,
an irresistible scent, the feel of paws on deck,
an insect traversing the pot.
All are given curiosity, attention, their due,
All valued for their thereness alone.
No justification collapses his presence.
His black fur warms quickly,
The poor pink body beneath quiet at last.
Ever alert in his stillness, he dreams,
Dreams of meeting himself in the breeze:
He is the breeze, the bird, the scent
His senses are the world and the world is him.