The rose bud
is coming to life
under my cat's
curious nose. It's
an afternoon that
moves slow. I hear
the 2 p.m. bells of
Trinity church over on
2nd street, as I
uncap a quart of beer
and pour a glass.
The cat notices and
walks up on the
porch with his tail
straight up like
a flag pole with
allegiance
to no one. He jumps
up on me,
purring . . . between my
spread legs out stretched
in a slouch against the
canvas beach chair,
and sticks his tongue
in my glass taking several
long laps.Then he stops drinking,
but still purring, belches
beer and roses.