In February the house is smaller,
Shrinking to just my office, nearer the furnace.
The Room of Shame, decorated with
Files and dusty computers, books, and cat fur,
From Yum Yum the Cat, dead these seven years.
She was old, even in cat years, and
This was her domain.
Like Jacob Marley and Scrooge’s knocker,
Her ghost inhabits this room,
Lurking behind boxes filled with books
And lit by the glow of the computer’s screen.
Little tufts of white fur hiding in places
The vacuum can’t reach,
A dusty memory keeping me company as I
Write novels that may or may not be read.
Four inches of snow fell last night, wet and heavy with water
And then froze, solid.
An iceberg enshrouded my bungalow, overtook my mini-van,
And weighs heavily on the rosemary shrubs.
And I am safe and warm inside this much smaller house
With my books and my computer,
And the ghost of my feline, past.
In February the House is Smaller, Copyright © 2017 Connie J Jasperson, All rights reserved
Cat on Yellow Pillow, Franz Marc 1912 [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons