The Visitor

Here – have a poem. A cat lives a few doors away from us but visits us frequently. Recently, it snowed. And yes, that’s my house but the photo was taken last time it snowed heavily, not this.

The first day
of heavy snow
there were no prints and the cat
had clearly voted with his paws to stay
at home, warm.
The second day
I heard a tap at the door,
faint, as though gloved,
but I was doing something important
and did not respond.
There might have been more
taps but as I say,
I was busy that day.
The third day the garden was still full
of lumps of white,
car-shaped, pot-shaped, shrub-shaped.
A cat
might have ended as a cat-shaped lump
if he had sat on the doormat or a stump,
but I let him in.
He shook drops of snow
(probably caught from a gate or rail)
like a liquid cat-herine wheel
then pushed a damp determined
forehead against my hand
for stroking
or kneading.
When I looked
outside there was a line
of paw prints, from his house
to mine.

2 thoughts on “The Visitor

  1. Love that cat even without having seen a photo of it. Love cats and the 3-day snow diary poem and the winter scene make me think that the poor creature deserves to be stroked, pampered and given a warm basket to curl up in.

    • It visits frequently when its people are away, as they were last week, and sometimes during the day when they’re at work! No basket – but it has commandeered the spare bed for an occasional nap! Another neighbour was providing food, but obviously not enough love!

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