Periwinkle's Purr, Pastoral

In apogee and perigee the moon

Still waned and waxed and all the seasons changed

And nothing happened late nor came too soon

With roses mostly painlessly arranged.

And Sue now viewed the world as with new eyes,

With scales and blind bits mostly dropped away;

She saw the world robed in its proper guise,

And to her purring cat had this to say,

“It happened in that moment, oh my sweet,

My hand withdrew just in that instant when

Your mouth closed on that evil poisoned treat –

For that good moment I now say amen.”

That’s what she said, not what she truly knew:

In truth, our Sue could neither stir nor brew.

Periwinkle's Purr, Five

“Sly cat, he thinks he’s got me in his grip,

And things are inside out and upside down –

Or so he thinks, but things with this will flip

And show him who’s the boss and who’s the clown.”

At that, Sue raised a steaming bowl of brew,

Then laughed that evil laugh that she had learned –

“It’s wicked me or bad demented you;

A drop upon your treats is what you’ve earned.”

And Susan did exactly that, and called,

“Oh Perry, my sweet Periwinkle mine –

Oh, come, my sweetie sweet, to your enthralled,

And on these tasty morsels come and dine.”

And Periwinkle purred and just as he

Came down on what she held, she cried, “I'm free!”

Periwinkle's Purr, Four

The trees within this forest lean to talk

At midnight each to other, and tonight

The topic is Sue’s Periwinkle’s walk

Upon the forest path within their sight.

“I hear he’s done some magic things,” says Thorn,

And Rose agrees, “He serves an active witch;”

“But neither of you understand,” adds Bjorn,

“That pretty cat has made a nasty switch.”

And underneath, three points of light appeared,

And Periwinkle stopped, then kneeled and purred,

“Great king of cats and emperor of weird,

She’s done – we’ve won – we’ve read her well and stirred.”

When Sue then woke to purrs upon her chest,

She slyly said, “My sweet, you are the best.”

Periwinkle's Purr, Three

She flies a kite with Periwinkle’s face

And knows of its effects throughout the land;

On things it sees, it leaves a hidden trace

Of luck or love to prick up with your hand.

He's buried there, Sue knows, in tufts of grass

Or upturned stones so innocently grey;

He's in that whiff of topsoil as you pass

Within his reach at any time of day.

So there he scuds upon a balmy breeze

And Sue can hear him purr and, yes, she knows

That all his bounty needs no thank-you-please,

For Periwinkle’s gifts are like a rose

Upon whose fragrant beauty you will linger,

But, careful now, its thorn is in your finger.  

Periwinkle's Purr, Two

It’s spring – a rising warming hums, expands
On Susan’s day and sings through her and more:

Grass, leaves, flowers, bees, each understands,

While in the singing skies the songbirds soar.

And so she chose a wispy flowered frock,

And chose a parasol, flip-flops, straw hat,

And is about to set out on her walk,

When there she sees her purring waiting cat.

For Periwinkle sits beside his bell

Upon the table where Sue keeps her keys;

His purrs of course had helped her in the spell

That banished winter in a magic breeze.

Outside, Sue thinks, “This heat has too much bite,

But we’ll adjust the spell first thing midnight.”

Periwinkle's Purr, One

Her discus moon’s in perigee tonight

And glares and paces on the mountain clouds,

While Susan, underneath, steals home, despite

The densely gathered blindly playful crowds –

They shout and laugh, most drunk – it’s Saturday,

And none look up to watch the falling sky,

And none see Susan boldly on her way,

And only Susan hears the moon’s dread cry –

For she still watches all of Nature’s signs,

Haruspicates and scries, can read and stir

A remedy or incantation’s lines

From secret books or Periwinkle’s purr.

She knows the trick to save mankind its fate,

But none will thank her when they wake up late.

Tripods

Upon the beach a thousand lights proclaim

The people’s worship of their thousand gods;

A thousand bulls are sacrificed to flame

Within the thousand brazier tripods.

They leave some choicest cuts for him who shakes

The earth from out his oceanic realm,

And then each ardent supplicant partakes

Until the night and numen overwhelm.

A thousand miles away a woman sounds

While on a tripod singular and keen;

She sits above a hollow on the grounds

Around the sun god’s temple, where she’s seen

The thousand tripods burning on the beach

A thousand miles away, but still in reach.