Wise, Old Panther Cat

I saw the Panther cat today. He was sitting on the brick wall this afternoon. I was tired from working, and so I went out to greet him. He blinked his green eyes cautiously and stayed behind the bush where he crouched. I peered back and stretched out a welcoming hand. Stretching out his black head, he sniffed my hand and nudged it. I pet him for a while and took this time to tell him about myself.

“Hello Panther Cat,” I started, settling myself on the wall, “My name is Claire. What is yours?”

We had a great conversation about flowers, mice, and pesky cicadas that always buzz much too loudly when one is trying to have an afternoon nap.

“I’ll tell you a story if you tell me a poem,” I said. Panther Cat agreed and I started.

“There once was a girl who loved to look at the sky and make observations on it. One day, when she was astutely observing the night sky and finding constellations, she heard something that made her look down.

“A piano. The notes struck the air with a satisfyingly bright noise. They seemed to float along on a cloud. The girl looked down from the rock where she always sat and tried to see where the music was coming from. She could see the notes away in the valley, they were sparkling, gold lights in the darkness.

“The girl followed the golden orbs of sound to their source and found a piano. It was sitting beside the road. It was white and shone like a pearl in the moonlight. A boy sat at the bench. Every time he played a note, a sparkling orb of golden light floated up and away from the piano and into the air.

“When the song ended, a new one began, this one was soft and soothing, and silver. The girl desperately wanted to say something, but when the song ended she had nothing to say but the truth. She clapped and the boy turned to look at her. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘You made me look down from the stars and realize that life really is on earth, and it can be more beautiful than the stars.’ The End.”

The sage Cat nodded his head and I pet him some more. “You promised a poem.” And it began.

The shy young girl

And the sage old cat

Sat on the wall

Discussing this and that

They both loved talking

About pink lemonade

They both loved stories

And red in all its shades

Colors were their favorite

Topic of debate

Which was the best

They each tried to expatiate

But when, at the end of the day,

They forgot their fighting

And cast their worries away

Stories appeared with the stars

Among their dusky brightness

Β The stories were waiting to be told

Every evening a new one

A beautiful mystery to behold

It was hard to let them go

So when the sun began to rise

And reminders of real life appeared,

They looked up at the morning sky

Because hidden in the folds

Of the bright blue sky

Their stories were waiting

For the next night

“That was a lovely poem,” I said to Panther Cat. “It sounds just like something I would say.”

I don’t really know why I just wrote that. It was based on my experience today. I saw a black cat and church we (me and my sister) called him Panther Cat. πŸ™‚ Good times.Β 

 

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