Cheeky Missy
Meow and Don\'t Follow The Pink Trend
I didn\'t.
Meow and Swear I Never Dreamed
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXXI)
They are the sweetest kittens to avail
I\'ve ever known: for Peter both from hence
Forgives, and blames himself, poor baby! Whence
Shall I go from here? Tigger\'s cute; she\'d hail
Me when I go off by myself and trail
Behind, yet quite eschew the camra hence,
Purrs from the \"cat towr\" which they\'ll leave fr\'intents
To rot whilst playing all through the place like\'s bail.
How Cynthya calls, and we two chat in tour
For oer an hour, the upshot of that who
Knows? \'cept first Tigger, then late Peter stir
Me to soft laughter with their antics through
The cat towr\'s shelves and pillars, who\'d demur
Before, yet now on cue enjoy. Who knew?
18Jun25a
I did.
Can You Believe I Forgot to Wear Pink?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXXII)
Rain likeas I have yearned, and oh! from hence
Whilst I\'m at home t\'indulge, as if t\'avail
Prayr answered \'fore I asked, where aught detail
Seems would comport with solace in defense,
Its footsteps like the voice of who that sense
Would hearken, eh? Ergo, rejoice to hail
Thy mercies, sans a thought I might lack bail,
E\'en when called in, as if joy\'s no pretense.
Why\'s twenty-twenty hindsight all as twere
I seem to know? Why rain in torrents through
The minutes I must work outside? What\'s poor?
We\'d argue til I pull a movie to
Enjoy out. Just begin, and hark! Bestir
Me out the door?! Oh LORD, how I need You.
18Jun25b
You know?
How Dido Sings, \"It\'s Only A Thought\"
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXXIV)
Some never leave their place of birth fr\'intents,
Whilst others have no place on earth to hail
As lo, their home. Have aught a choice? Avail
Me nowhere \'cept I was born here, defense
Too thin as I was raised elsewhere, a sense
Of Colorado in my blood like bail,
\'Cept that world\'s long since perished and the trail
To yonder cloaked in mists too thick for whence.
Sometimes I yearn to cycle through in tour
Dirt roads like those sweet prairies\' lonely cue
Once owned, where ranchers, long horns, stetsons were
The rule: \'cept I did not belong. Ne\'er do.
Oh LORD, what am I seeking? Come, bestir
Me to see far off and to wait on You.
19Jun25b
[By now do you know what that word means?]
How Morning\'s Gone Within A Trice
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXXV)
Night\'s velvet blackness deep, the moon\'s detail
Is but a fragile sliver in suspense
Hung now aloft where mists would frame it, whence
Watch colour sift through ere five til the veil
Thins from a sapphire hue to what\'d avail
The sun, \'cept rain haunts yonder til I thence
Am full of hope for that sheer solace, sense
Alive as groc\'ry shopping early\'s bail.
Tell Tigger I\'ll be back, and she waits fer
Me at the window, with meows I do
Not grasp til she finds no treats out as t\'were
When all is stowed. Oh me! I never knew.
Then perch upon the table...Peter\'d stir
For breakfast, ah, below. LORD, we wait You.
20Jun25a
It\'s from the Scriptures...
If Only I Were As a Garden
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXXVII)
Oh harr\'wing night wherein we texted, frail
With fears of mair loss and a shred fr\'intents
Of hope, how sweet to hear the bells chime, thence
With a \"meow\" in tow! Oh to avail
Me of her sweet face! Cats like milk?! Detail
The thousand pictures of the same for sense,
Despite the modern line they don\'t, and hence
Watch how both he and she lap up the tale
Of cream and milk--a treat for joy as t\'were.
He sez three men came in at midnight to
Work on the issue, and ere dawn in tour
We\'d water for the bathroom and to do
The laundry. Oh the showr! How good tis! Stir
In me to trust and praise Thee, LORD, of You.
21Jun25a
Truly, it does.
...Joy Cometh In the Morning
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXXVIII)
The kitchen faucet DEAD, I never thence
No, never dreamed they would replace t\'avail
The fixture! What a piece of art to scale!
Well, that is fun to look at, in defense
Of all the daily loads of dishes, whence
Begin afresh at long last. Tis for bail
Lo, Nash\'nal Smoothie Day! Fresh spinach trail
To satisfaction, taste none like\'s pretense.
Come, taste bananas though tis green, as twere
As green as spinich, very yummy too!
And oh! Tis Sat\'day: I want pancakes. Stir
A batch from that old rec\'pe, buttered to
Perfection, bacon, eggs in tow. What\'s poor
Is how I did not trust, LORD; I\'d wait You.
21Jun25b