When the flagstones are
Warm in the garden, that's when
We can go to bask.
•
I'll sprawl here, on stone,
You sprawl there, on wood, and we
Can listen for steps.
•
If you prick your ears,
You can hear my rumbling; my
Happiness is loud.
•
Your tail is swishing.
Are you restless? Are you glad
To be here with me?
•
For now, let's forget
That our claws are sawed down, teeth
Blunted by disuse.
•
I can imagine
That I am striped and dappled,
And quiet and huge.
•
A fountain is a
Drinking hole. A finch is a
Kill to celebrate.
•
The dachshunds next door
Will cower when they see us
On the garden wall.
•
Don't mind the moths; mind
The rats in the compost heap,
Hearty as wild hares.
•
Come evening, a door
Will open. You'll hear my name.
Is it what you thought?
About the Creator
Jennifer A. G.
🇨🇦 Canadian Writer, Painter & Embroidery Artist
♾️ Métis Nation
🎓 University of Victoria Alumna
📝 Publications: The Malahat Review, Freefall Magazine, Geist, Best Canadian Poetry 2026
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.