I was getting away the last couple of days or so from the spirit of small attentions. The first thing that caught my eye this morning as I woke, were the high dark clouds, and beneath them the lightening sky.

January 14

night lifts itself, slow,
from early morning sky
black segues to paler black,
then grey.

by ten, blue breaks
through clouds, ending the white
that has fallen on the roof for days.

Carol A. Stephen

Most days my cat sits on my desk and I have to peer around him to see what’s on my screen.  Seemed like a small stone that I have not been paying enough attention to, so here is today’s observation of Tojo.

Tojo: guardian, critic, actor, god?

This sleek Siamese fails his true cat reputation,
not one stand-offish bone in his lithe form.
in porcelain-cat pose, he supervises every click
of keyboard, shields my eyes from harmful monitor rays.

a permanent cat-shape embeds itself centre-screen.
He censors television, too, but I wonder,
is he really saving me, or does he have some hidden
longing to be a feline star of stage and screen?

Or, is he really saying Look at me and worship?

Carol A. Stephen

Winter Garden Penitents                          

in the hard-pour of January rain
hollow reeds of black-eyed susans
stiffen and crack under the ice-weight
as it wraps itself around each slender stem.

Spiny heads covered by crystal caps,
they bow with every crack, and each cry
is a prayer of contrition, a hymn they sing
to the white-haired goddesses of winter,
watching, remote, inside their crystal-cold cathedrals.

Carol A. Stephen
January 12, 2012