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Description
When I grow old
she said
I will be the crazy cat lady
all the neighbors talk about.
I will dwell
in a house of sycamore
and live off taffy and gin,
and paint my ceilings yellow.
I will dangle carrots
off the clothesline
and only bathe on Sundays.

I will keep 47 cats
(or maybe 63)
and give them names
like Cumberbund and Camembert
and let them sleep in the kitchen sink
where they can dream of midnight raids
on the pantry-
of sardines poached in pepper sauce
and mocking bird and beetle pie
and we will fish off the crumbling pier.

I will tie bells to their tails
to warn the birds
they are invited for a meal
and watch them flying over
the horizon,
their wings a tell tale
sigh of autumn weather.
And at night we will curl
up on the porch
fur bristling under blankets
and October's jumbled moon
to dream of chasing
mice among the rafters.

Description
When I grow old
she said
I will be the crazy cat lady
all the neighbors talk about.
I will dwell
in a house of sycamore
and live off taffy and gin,
and paint my ceilings yellow.
I will dangle carrots
off the clothesline
and only bathe on Sundays.

I will keep 47 cats
(or maybe 63)
and give them names
like Cumberbund and Camembert
and let them sleep in the kitchen sink
where they can dream of midnight raids
on the pantry-
of sardines poached in pepper sauce
and mocking bird and beetle pie
and we will fish off the crumbling pier.

I will tie bells to their tails
to warn the birds
they are invited for a meal
and watch them flying over
the horizon,
their wings a tell tale
sigh of autumn weather.
And at night we will curl
up on the porch
fur bristling under blankets
and October's jumbled moon
to dream of chasing
mice among the rafters.