Morning Ritual

There’s a purr in my ear
the moment she hears me stir.
She pats my face with an impertinent paw –
I know I have ten minutes more
until I’m wide awake, but she insists.
She licks my ear, kneads my hair
until I roll off the mattress edge,
push feet into slippers and go downstairs.

A shadow flits ahead,
straight to the litter tray
and, having scratched a cloud of dust,
she pushes open the door
to join me in the bathroom.

I’m followed to the kitchen sink;
she scrutinises
the washing of her bowl,
the pouch of food,
the biscuits on the side,
until she’s satisfied
and I go off to brew some tea for me.

I start up the laptop,
sit and sip
while I view the morning garden,
with the cat curled in my lap.

Kim M. Russell, 2017

On day 6 of The Poetry School’s NaPoWriMo prompts, we are writing poems about rituals.

Our poems today should include a habit or ritual of some kind; it can be as grand as a religious observance or as small as the way someone we know squeezes their toothpaste. The example poem today is ‘Raising a Glass with My Old Man’, by Mauricio Rosencof, translated by Margaret Jull Costa.

 

I think I’ve merged today’s theme with yesterday’s aubade! 

31 thoughts on “Morning Ritual”

    1. Thanks for reading, Bev! I’ve just been through the whole ritual this morning and now our other cat, Luna, has come in they are both curled up together, so no Mojo on my lap at the moment! 🙂

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