Indian Time Poem by Laurence Overmire

If I were to measure my life in
Indian time
Marking that memorable event that makes each
Year unique
A changing moon in the phase of life's
Many seasons
I would call this 2004
"The year of the kitten"
And last year 2003
"The year of the hummingbird."

A year ago when the summer grass was not yet brown
The hummingbird always present
Yet never seen
Was finally discovered
By placing a feeder
Where the window's eye could catch
The swift reflection of the beating wings
This tiny creature so alive and
So near death from one moment to the next
Living with all the passion that its little life could
Muster.

In the harsh winter, snow thick upon the
Ground
We committed to their care
Providing sustenance when the barren Earth
Had nothing to spare.

In the spring, they left
Or perhaps they just
Disappeared, their brief term of life so quickly
Expired.

But the spring also brought a new
Companion, a little kitten taken in by a
Neighbor family—
Or rather she took us in—
Adopted us into her playful
Cat's eye world
Stroking our backs, our chins, with the nuzzle of her
Soft fur
Licking away our troubles with a
Motherly assurance that all is well:
A yawn, a stretch
A bask in the sun on a slow, porch swing…

For some strange reason, she chose us
Asking nothing more than to love and be
Loved.

She left just as suddenly one lazy Sunday afternoon
Given away to a "better home"
Or so the neighbors said
Unwilling to care for, what must have been
With three daughters in tow, an added nuisance
But we will never know
"Better" is a relative term.

The year of the kitten
Like so many others, not named in our memory
Began with such promise and
Ended with such bittersweet
Loss and regret.

This is the way of Indian time
The way of the heart beating
Alone in the wind
Not only of man, but of beast
It would seem—
A hummingbird, a kitten, and you and
I—

This is the way of being
Alive.

~ Laurence Overmire