“I wish” – a seed falls to the ground.
Not much chance
That it will land on fertile soil,
Find water, reach sunlight.
The substance of reality is hard.
It is mostly rocks:
“Impossible”, “Forbidden”, “Or else”.
It is riddled with petrified bones:
“I regret”, “I never”, “I always”.
It is swarming with voracious mouths:
“I should”, “I promised”, “I must”.
“I wish” – a seed falls to the ground.
Not much chance,
But a chance nonetheless.
May it take root: “I am”,
May it send up a shoot: “I will”.
Cat.
Feral black cat.
No name that I know of,
No name that I would presume to bestow.
For ten years I have addressed him
By his title:
“Cat”.
Sometimes he comes by for a leisurely visit.
He meows, I sing-song: “kitty-cat”.
His four paws step delicately in a single line,
The tail flicks my knees.
As I stroke his slick arched back,
He weaves infinity signs
Around and around my ankles —
A hypnotic ritual of joy.
Sometimes he shows up
Skittish, bristling,
Not wishing to be touched.
He eats the offered food quickly,
Silently melts into the night,
Black into black.
Sometimes he meets me
As I am taking a walk in the evening:
Emerges from the cover of a bush,
Follows me to my house,
Flickering as he passes through the shadows.
Sometimes he appears on my porch
Night after night, for a week.
Sometimes he is gone for a month or more.
I fret, walk around the neighborhood,
Pausing by every promising bush,
Calling him, knowing it is in vain.
His comings and goings are not predictable,
Are not governed by my concerns.
It would be a human conceit
To imagine that the cat intends
To teach me non-attachment.
But I learn, nonetheless.
In the supermarket,
I pack seven cans of “seafood dinner” into my bag.
The purchase is an act of hope.
I have not seen him in weeks.
The cashier asks with genuine interest:
“What kind of cat do you have?”
“I do not have a cat.”
Responding to her unspoken question,
I add, wistfully:
“This is for a friend.”
She stares, perturbed.
I wade deeper into the truth:
“My friend is a cat.”
The early bird gets the worm.
The early worm gets a one-way ticket
For a trip down the bird’s intestines.
Therefore, seek self-knowledge.
If you are a bird,
Do not feather your bed overmuch.
If you are a worm,
Do not delude yourself into expecting
That your wings will be sprouting any day now.
