Poetry. “Hope” is the Thing with Feathers. By Emily Dickinson. Condensed and loosely referenced by Paul Klusman.

Emily had a bird in a cage.
Named “Hope” that sang and played.
At the bottom was eternal
The Wall Street Journal
Editorial Page.

Brown Paper and a Spoon

The greatest toy that ever was
Brown paper and a spoon
On the floor lurking in

The messy living room

It takes no AA batteries

It has no on-off switch

It's endless fun and scratches

The ever playful itch

For minutes or an hour

Playing hide and seek
Wiggle butt and flying claws

What furry lightning streak

Hunts the kitchen ware

Like brave dragon slayers

Underneath and in between

The crinkled paper layers

Until the deadly pounce

At long last is made

Sent to meet it's maker

Long handle Rubbermaid

Victory now it's time to rest

The hunt is at an end
But woe to serving spoons
That pass this way again

To a Black Cat

Twinkle twinkle little black

Panther in my home

How you shine in morning’s light

Where the sunbeams roam

Twinkle twinkle coiled spring

My ankles catch your eye

Waiting for attack

As I'm walking by

Twinkle twinkle twelve o’clock

At the window sill

Your steely eyes watching

Quiet stealthy still

Twinkle twinkle afternoon

Sleeping in repose

Twitching eyes and whiskers

Galloping little toes

Twinkle twinkle late at night

The day is growing old

Blending into shadows

Two rings of glowing gold

Twinkle twinkle good luck charm

You ebony feline art

I’m glad you crossed my path

I love you cross my heart