Grandma’s Back Porch Poem by Stephanie Eve Kane Arado

Cats ruled the porch
The king and his subjects
Catching mice in the tall grass
Licking the sides of the red shed
From a time long past.
Getting out remained hazy
The yard didn’t really exist.
Maybe hazy weeds and flowers
Were a window in time
Maybe only cats could go outside

All intruders stayed on the porch, while
The king reclined on the top shelf
Siamese and unfriendly, Simon, the king, lay
Revealing his girth and once sturdy legs
Blinking his marvelous blue eyes
Head on paw and black fur blending
Into the top shelf
On the dimly lit back porch
Hard to separate paint and tools from
Cat
Who occasionally lifted his head
Looking for intruders, ready to swipe

Tossing fearful glances
Into the dimly lit porch
I tread quietly in uncharted territory.
Maybe he’ll be sleeping
Maybe he’ll be friendly
Maybe he’ll enjoy my attention
Maybe I can touch greatness

Gingerly I approach
Arm outstretched, barely reaching the top shelf
Fingertips edging toward lightly toasted vanilla fur
Laying slick and smooth, accented by black velvet paws

Growling deep and low
He flashes his laser eyes
The king is not to be disturbed.
He saw me hesitate
At one doorway to another world
For one moment we almost communicated
The differences remained too great

Respecting his dominance and his age
I spun around stepping into a bright kitchen
The door left open, kitchen empty
Grandma had become a cat
And hid with the others
In the tall wavy grass
Waving rhymically in the
Indiana wind