I wake at four in the morning
and tread downstairs to the living room
to see what the cats are up to, and to
maybe read or write a poem or talk
to Mom. I have a feeling of anticipation.

It feels like Christmas morning
is what I’m thinking and just then
I look out the front window and see
the neighbor has turned his Christmas
lights on and they’re shining on the snow
around his house – how beautiful!

There’s a lightening and lifting in the air.
The cats are playing – rolling around each
other in a ball of calico and black fur. Half-
feral cat jumps up on the couch to have his
his head scratched – and there’s magic
in his coming to me. He’s a wary one –
I’ve been given an honor.

It is 4:30 in the morning and I have ruffled
a cat’s fur and written a poem and hugged
Moz in my thoughts. And she has hugged
me back.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell