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It's just poetry, it won't bite


03.26.20 Posted in today's words by

Molly Frederick’s most recent poem to appear here was “What Did She Discover?” (February 2019).

By Molly Frederick

On a snowy day in winter, Dexter, my
black cat—black of nose, lips, and whiskers
all the way down to the black pads
on his feet—sits looking out the window,
Angel food cakes of snow continue to rise
on the landscape, and so I ask him
(he, blacker than the back of a new domino):
“Well . . . what do you think of all this white?”
Silently, he gazes out, turning his head slightly.
As Dexter settles down on the sill, his eyelids
begin to droop.
Colors beyond the window grow subdued
and gray, as snow continues.
Trees flick their wind-stroked new white paws
at him, and the slender birch tree
lets snow slide off its several supple tails.
I sit back in my easy chair by the window,
to wait and watch, pondering.
But I do not bother Dexter with more questions.
He has fallen asleep.

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