I wish my little cat were still at home

After so much sun, the cold returns
My feet are blue,  my nose runs like a tap
For the warmer months my dear heart yearns

I wish I had a real fire, wood to burn
A hotter kind of dog that never yaps
After joyous sun, the cold returns

Still, I  have much craft that I would learn.
A guide to navigate the poet’s map
For the warmer months my  body yearns

I wish my little cat were still  at home
To lie down side me while I take a nap
After  cheering sun, the cold returns

In the summer woods, I sing alone
I hate  my diary, calendar, all traps
For the warmth of love my  body yearns

In each  heart there is at least one crack
Where light gets in and  lights up what was black
After so much sun, the cold returns
But warmer times will come…