Farm Cat
By Lisa Marie Harmon
Where’re you
going, Jackson?
With a mighty leap,
to the top of your lookout post, statuesque and proud, you survey
every barnyard happening
Where’re you going
Jackson?
To the top of my
shoulders, to purr and nudge and insist I caress your glorious, silky
coat of tabby stripes, and hypnotize me with piercing yellow-green eyes
Where’re you going
Jackson?
On a family hike
through the woods, to the pond, with kids and dogs, you and sister, June, both meowing so loud, “Wait for us!” when we get too far
ahead
Where’re you
going, Jackson?
Into the hay barn
where it’s quiet and warm to take your nap in the middle of a
summer’s day
Where’re you
going, Jackson?
On a rodent hunt in
the feed room at dusk and then maybe to get a drink from the goat pen
water trough, or chase a cricket through the tall yellow grass
Where’re you
going, Jackson?
Down the dusty farm
road to greet ClaireAnna as she walks to the barnyard to do her chores,
then roll onto your back at her feet so she has to pick you up and
carry you back to the barn
What’s the matter,
Jackson?
Just days ago, the
picture of health, now your coat is dull and those piercing eyes are
pleading and the doctor says there is no hope
Where’re you
going, Jackson?
As my hand is closed
around the handle of a small, empty crate and the doctor hands me the
towel you were wrapped in when they carried you away
Where’re you
going, Jackson?
Where Junie can’t
find you and we can’t see you anymore or hear your thunderous purrs
or feel your glorious, silky, beautiful, tabby-striped coat or marvel
at what a wonderful farm cat you are
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