A Forest Cat Welcomes Winter
A Poem in Paragraphs
Namir slipped through the shadows, watching. The forest held its breath, waiting. The birds tucked their beaks under their wings, silent. The deer could not be seen, sleeping in their secret places. The trees stood where they had settled years ago. Sometimes bending, pieces breaking, but still standing. The oak tree by the pond had bid good passage to the last of his leaves just yesterday. The birch trees had all been ready for winter for weeks. Only the elm held on. One brittle, yellow-brown leaf swayed in the gentle breeze. The last leaf.
Namir stopped by the pond, admiring her silky black fur reflected in the smooth surface. Even the fish had settled to the bottom, preparing for the biting wind and bitter cold that would soon turn the pond to ice. She saw the familiar tire swing hanging limply from the branch stretching over the water, summer play long forgotten. Today was the day.
Namir watched the sky, reflected in the surface of the water. The blue of summer had long faded to gray, puffy cotton flattened to a blanket of white, pregnant with the promise of snow. The clouds were ready.
Namir listened to the quiet, straining to hear the creak of a branch in the silence. The autumn nymphs had gone to rest, all but one cranky elder stomping back and forth on the elm’s branch. With each stomp of…
