How should I greet you,
yesterday's joy,
draped in vines that are
lyrics without sound,
something about letting go
without calling it a death,
but the doorway to life . . .
You gave me some idea of how soft
the love of God must be.
And that was too much to ask of a cat.
Now all I can give you is lacy rain
and your ivy bed with its
nourishing green song
and the scent
of spice and holiness.
Just for today I will
be like the clouds
that are swallowed in stillness,
then appear somewhere else
because change is the one
thing they do,
so they do it
with everything they are—