I sat on the back porch, with a glass of wine, watching the moon, waiting for Jon to come home. He was picking up one of our Amish neighbors from the train station in Albany.
I pet Flo who sat on the table next to me.
Finally, Jon’s ring came from my iPhone. “I just dropped them off,” he said, “I’m on my way home.”
We sat on the back porch, Jon trying to get a picture of the moon through the big old birch who has already lost her leaves.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” I said when I saw what he had taken.
Flo watched too, she knows the moon.
How neat that your post is about John’s photo of the moon when your portrait is lit eerily similarly by the cool white light of his cell phone, illuminating Flo’s interested pose and her whiskers, John’s shirt and profile, and even reflecting off the glass jar vase with this summer’s floral representative – the yellow dandelion.
You got it Amy. Thanks for your thoughts.
Cats are like the Moon
Mysterious and unknowable
Going thru phases from
Purr in your face to Where did she go
Don’t touch me
Affection waxing and waning
With the pull of the tide
Of their love for us.
aew
Amy that is the essence of cat! Is it your poem? It’s perfect.