The Cat

This is Poetry Thursday, so here's an old poem.

The Cat     

 

 

When I would meditate,

I felt I sat beneath a cat.

He was seated, too, and his front paws

Filled my upturned palms,

And the rest of him was seated

At my back.

 

I spoke this fancy to a friend.

She was my mentor in this business,

And when I told her of the cat,

She gave a little snort. Not a big snort,

For she was compassionate. But a snort.

I lagged aback. My poor idea. Not to be true.

Too bad. But I forgot to tell the cat

And back he comes, ever  as I sit the lotus;

Paws in my palms, and towering at my back,

Quiet in the everlasting stillness.

Just Buddha, and kitty, and me.