Tula

my cat comes from the earth
she is soft like silk
and feisty as a swirling wind
her scent keeps me grounded
when I would like to fly away
with wings I don’t own
her eyes watch me
as I write these words
wanting me to stop
and acknowledge her existence
right now
her purring makes me
feel quiet in the night
as I listen to Christmas music
in November
and dream of romance
in a snowy small town
far, far away from
this urban/suburban loudness
where I live
my cat with her little white
moustache and paws
and swirls on her sides
is the one I rescued
and now she saves me
from jumping wildly into a future
built on shifting sands
and thundering waves
that only I can hear and feel
and know