Now close the windows and hush all the fields: If the trees must, let them silently toss; No bird is singing now, and if there is, Be it my loss. It will be long ere the marshes resume, I will be long ere the earliest bird: So close the windows and not hear the wind, But see all wind-stirred.
Here’s our cat Mable yesterday morning:
And here is the image that I saw walking down the hall just a few minutes ago this morning:
I can only imagine what she thinks about every morning at one of her windows, but this morning ritual looks like a poem to me every day and if I ever get the words right I will stick them here too. Sometimes the images just seem to say it all though.