Since I just posted about my sister’s 70thbirthday, appropriate to share the poem I found on the occasion of her 60th. Chester the cat is long gone, having reaching the bottom of the cat food tin.
MY SISTER TURNS SIXTY AND I FEED THE CAT
I keep the cat’s food in a large, purple tin.
Inside a red cup to scoop it out.
Each day, I put a cupful in his bowl
And he eats.
Each day, the dry pellets in the tin
cup by cup
toward the shiny bottom,
until one day,
And so do our years descend in measured cups,
feeding some small creature who purrs with contentment
and rubs against our leg
in gratitude and affection.