New Poem : Autumn

I was inspired to write this poem after reading the last line of a short story where a family return home and find their old cat has died.


The garden is a flood of copper.

It hums of wood smoke

and rotting apples.


The cat makes her slow, difficult

rounds, drifting soundlessly.


She hasn’t hunted in weeks.

The birds stamp the grass

to bring up the worms.


They know they’re safe,

they know that what she sees

is mostly darkness.


We watch her circling from the

open window, crying freely.

She can’t hear us anymore.


As a kitten, she would have

been curious about our tears.

She would have licked the salt

off our faces.


We bury her with the bones

of all the mice she killed

and left on the doorstep as gifts.



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