The cat ascends the stairs more quickly than I
But we go down them together,
She two steps ahead, looking back in mid-staircase
To see if I am there.
I wonder if she thinks I will disappear if she doesn’t check.
Usually we go to the kitchen so I can feed her
And, that done, we climb the stairs again.
Later, she asks with an outstretched paw if she might
Sit in the window and watch birds in the trees and
Traffic on the street.
She hates being picked up, but when I raise the blinds and sash,
She purrs when I lift her to the sill.
She sits there a moment, looking around
And then I take her from her perch
And deposit her on the floor.
Still later, she invites me to take a nap with her
By going to the bedroom door and looking back.
When I lie down, she stretches herself out
At a forty-five degree angle to my body
And we sleep like that,
Two aging creatures who are
Not what we used to be
And not what we will become.
August 2, 2016