for Noelle
The way she perches
on her back legs
as she tucks her paws under,
settles onto the sofa,
is a miracle.
The way she speaks
differently
depending on her mood,
a demand, a confidence,
or a soft purr.
The way her walk
has changed with years,
from a swift dart and a pounce,
to slow and tentative,
is a sorrow.
But the way she leans
into my hand as she passes,
turns and returns, patters
a figure eight, looking up,
is infinite.
LMC