sweetness

-

sweetness

“I don’t like life…

it always ends in death!”

My not-yet-eight year old wailed.

Our kitty, one of a set

long gone and nowhere

to be found.


A couple days before, 

she whisked out the back, 

frolicked through the meadow

Sat high on the arm 

of an old Adirondack

and explored the neighbors’

place, abandoned and spooky

at will.


A butterfly with her coloring,

An ice cream made of the same

Shades: part graham cracker

crust, part Oreo, part

cookie dough.


“I hear how much 

this hurts, dear.”

I say and trust

When my girl is ready, 

she’ll see our kitty’s 

sweetness in all 

it’s subtleties

remains.





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