Friday, September 26, 2014


In four days haiku, the gorgeous and precocious kitty, turns a lovely 11.  He is napping upon a sunbeam.  I am thinking of soup because cooking makes a poem happen.  And cooking, as walking, is a celebration.  Is a poem.

1 comment:

  1. Haiku for Haiku

    There is no other smile but
    hers when you jump up--
    no different than sunshine