An Orange Cat. October 8th 2017
|The tree outside my window is turning |
A deep plumb red.
The kiss soft cat asleep on the wing-backed chair
One tick from one clock,
The house is Sunday still.
If April is the cruellest month,
I have always thought September and October the kindest.
If, lurking in the renewal and promise of spring,
Is the message,
'It won’t last, all this will die, don’t get your hopes up'
Then autumn's promise,
In a blaze of reds and golds and yellows,
Is 'we’ll be back, so
Enjoy the cat and the drawing in of nights,
Enjoy the fires and the winter pints
Enjoy the scarf and the cosy book
And enjoy the lantern light from the homely house.'