A Pair of (unrelated) Poems


It was the closing of the day
when the geese filled the sky,
honking hollow echoes of sound.
Wings curved, close, over the water.

When the geese filled the sky
their reflection held the sunlight, in
wings, curved close over the water.
Landing in sunset ripples on the pond

their reflection held the sunlight in,
floating now. The geese circled once,
landing in sunset ripples on the pond
for the light was fading.

Floating now the geese circled once,
settling, preening, then quiet,
for the light was fading.
The ripples smooth like feathers

settling. Preening, then quiet
the sun entered the pond,
the ripples smooth, like feathers,
covering the dark water.

The sun entered the pond
and night filled the sky
covering the dark water.
It was the closing of the day.




The black cat licks her white paws
with her pink tongue. Her ears
are dark points. Around her the room
shifts and frets. Her whiskers nod
down and back. Her pink tongue traces
a foot. She is night
with light edges. She licks
her paw and wipes each keen ear.

Her task complete,
she tucks nose to tail and folds
herself into a warm spot
on the cushion. Her paws are hidden.
She is a pool of darkness, like the beginning,
like before the beginning, she is
that black.

The TV flickers its dull light,
a newspaper stirs and rattles. The red
painting swirls from the wall
and flies to the floor. She lies
in the center of the chair sleeping,
like a cat sleeping, in the center
of a chair.

poems by Kate Taylor


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