On the Night Porch with Meow

Ever hang out on a dark porch and mistake your cat for the Budhha?
Happens more often than you'd think...


On the Night Porch with Meow

On our porch, clear, starlit, dark,
I sat out to cool in the June night air,
As Cat lay on the table, watching me,
  He can see

So can I, but only dimly, see him,
Deposing in the Lion pose, watching me,
This Lion pose is no mere thing,
While dying the Buddha lay in the Lion pose,
From reading sutras, it seems he said more so poised
  Between food poisoning and dying
Than most men ever, in many lives

And this Lion pose is no easy thing,
One lays, hips vertical,
The legs pointing towards,
While arms uphold the body
And the head upright,
No easy pose for Man, or Woman,
  Lions do it,
    Cats too, easy as a tail twitch

"Are you my Buddha?" I ask
No meowl, no grunt,
He just stares into the dark at me,
  I know what that means,
So pouring some from a cat treat bag
  I tossed them, one a time,
Which he chases about, as he can see,
  I can not,
Perhaps he can see the sounds as they skip along the floor,
Perhaps, like spots after blinking at the sun, he can see the motion,
  While of neither of each can I, 
Funny how one sees possession of religious powers,
  In a cat,
Whose hunter mind knows only hand tossed treats

Later,
   After a woken dream
I find him again, crouching on the welcome mat
Before the porch screen door
I ask, "Meow meow, what’s out there?"
He answers with his mouth moving jaggedly,
  "Ahnt-at, ahnt-at, ahnt-at,"
Again I ask, "What’s that mean?"
  As another answered, thrice,
A howl of three meows,
Friend, foe, and unknown,
Coming from afar, from the crease of the yard and brush,
  Out in the starlit dark unseen  

Cat is my Buddha,
  He has his,
    Grace is always – Over there…