Monday, January 12, 2015

Almost never was


Through the kitchen window,
the cat, watching me drink a glass of water.

Through the kitchen window,
me, watching the cat, watching me.

Through the kitchen window,
the cat, watching me, watching him, watching.

Through the kitchen window,
a man, holding a glass emptied of water,
but full of everything else there is,
rushing in and out so quickly,
it appears there is nothing,
worth watching.

The cat, watches on.

The man, disappears,
thinking, he might be a window of sorts.

The cat, disappears,
watching, what might have been,
and, almost, never was.

That, too, disappears.

The rain, raining on, rains on rain.

Cat windows. Corn fields. Day dreams. Winter loves.



8 comments:

Jonathan Chant said...

A sublime slaking of the thirst. With the cat's whiskers thrown in too.

Grand poem, William.

William Michaelian said...

I’m please you think so, Jonathan. Thanks for letting me know.

Bitch said...


Always love your writing ...
This reminds me of zen poems...
Have a happy year, dear William.

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Monika. A good year to you, too.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Excellent. The cat, the window, the glass of water. One of my favorites.

William Michaelian said...

I’m glad, Yvonne. Thanks very much.

Lorraine Renaud said...

WOW the rain, the cat the window, and water, you've shown my life in your words, pretty amazing...when it rains

William Michaelian said...

...and snows and suns... thank you, Lorraine...