(? - 26 June 2004)

On A Night of Snow

Cat, if you go outdoors, you must walk in the snow.
You will come back with little white shoes on your feet,
little white shoes of snow that have heels of sleet.
Stay by the fire, my Cat. Lie still, do not go.
See how the flames are leaping and hissing low,
I will bring you a saucer of milk like a marguerite,
so white and so smooth, so spherical and so sweet -
stay with me, Cat. Outdoors the wild winds blow.

Outdoors the wild winds blow, Mistress, and dark is the night,
strange voices cry in the trees, intoning strange lore,
and more than cats move, lit by our eyes green light,
on silent feet where the meadow grasses hang hoar -
Mistress, there are portents abroad of magic and might,
and things that are yet to be done. Open the door!

-- Elizabeth Coatsworth

Zarathustra found his way into our home in 1990, already a full-grown battle-scarred veteran of the meadow grasses. A truely huge cat with amazingly long legs, he cleaned out our fish tank within days.

After many, many happy years spent in my shop watching me hard at work on my various projects, Zara succumed to simultaneous attacks of cancer, feline leukemia, thyroid failure, and senility.


© 2003 W. E. Johns