Routine Magic.

In the sigh of sequential circular winds,
I hear the pit patter pat of tiny cat's feet.
white blue shades around the doorway bend,
and with the yawning moon, to warmth I retreat.

a vibrating motor hum soon appears in the air,
ah! welcome Magic, the prince of sweet pleas.
to coax open my feathered cocoon and prepare
a spot for two, to gently curl with ease.

pastel pink nose, and pale whiskered cheeks.
his charisma and the cosmos equivocally meet.
scent's intuition leads the tired hummer home,
beneath the warm chin of his best friend alone.

and with small hours ahead,
furled and curled ...
the cotton weaves comfort,
and now ... we sleep.

(c) Novalyn Grace RRL
2.19.08

(written about my kitty: Magic)