Scans Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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A pleasant surprise awaited me at church on Christ the King Sunday this year.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Leslie Catherine Taylor,

my furry feline child,

will be my child forever,

half-wild, all-cat, half-mild.

+++++

She has joined the pantheon

of great cats I have known–

Jean-Luc, Harry, Charlemagne,

Caesar, and Duncan; done

+++++

are their lives on Earth yet they

remain my furry kinfolk;

those feline monarchs do reign

in my heart; death can’t revoke

+++++

their status as cat children

in my mind.  This tuxedo cat,

with her determination

to leave feral ways at

+++++

the altar of the past, has

chosen the better part.

And the black on her nose, paws’

pads, and her fur is art-

+++++

ful.  Her nose is pink and black,

her fur coat distinguished,

her manner no sweetness lacks;

she’s all I could have wished.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

SEPTEMBER 29, 2014 COMMON ERA

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Below:  Leslie, September 30, 2014

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Above:  The Original Draft of the Poem

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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In the darkness of the night,

as I look at the window,

through which shines the outdoor light,

I see the back steps’ shadow,

+++++

and the shadow of a cat,

Leslie Catherine Taylor,

who might one day hunt a rat.

My friend cleans her feline fur,

+++++

sits on an elevated

step, taking in the view from

on high, then decides to get

a new view of her kingdom.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

SEPTEMBER 1, 2014 COMMON ERA

Above:  Leslie, August 11, 2014

Images Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Leslie, who grew up outside my back door, has remained.  She lacked human contact during the crucial time of socializing to people, but daily feedings have done much to earn her confidence and increase her comfort level.  We have progressed to the point of playing with her; she swats at fingers.

Crystal, Leslie’s mother, has white fur, a blue eye, and a green eye.  She comes to the back door most days for food then leaves for her next destination.  At least she is sufficiently comfortable to do that much.

Below:  Crystal, August 11, 2014

Images Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

AUGUST 11, 2014 COMMON ERA

Above:  The Original Draft of the Poem

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Sleep, young Leslie, the afternoon away

in the soil beneath a rose-bush,

curled up smartly in the temperate shade.

You, a tuxedo cat, do brush

+++++

away all stress gently without effort.

The mere sight of you softens hearts,

melts fears, reduces worries, and comforts

the hurt.  You are a work of art.

+++++

And so, until I feed you the next time

and you eat favored food gladly,

do that which cats do best–be most sublime

while training we humans subtly.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

JULY 8, 2014 COMMON ERA

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Below:  Leslie, July 25, 2014

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Above:  The Original Draft of the Poem

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Take comfort, my feral feline neighbors,

mother Crystal and daughter Leslie,

for you are my favorite two creatures;

this has become our reality.

+++++

That you stretch out and curl up, even sleep

at my back door makes me quite happy.

I understand why distance you still keep

from human beings, even from me,

+++++

but at least you have become more present

(and more often) than previously.

Your visibility alone has meant

a great deal to my darling and me.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

JULY 7, 2014 COMMON ERA

Above:  The Original Text

The final draft is below.

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Crystal, Pat, and Leslie,

feline neighbors feral,

whom I feed and gladly

watch through my rear windows

+++++

Crystal, the protective

mother, guards kittens cute;

one child is all white;

the other wears a suit

+++++

of fur black and white.

The babies romp outdoors;

all consume many a bite

of feline food courses–

+++++

fish, dry food, and canned food.

They drink fresh water too.

My caring attitude

tells me what I should do

+++++

for these creatures of God

who, although they never

will be pets, to I nod

and resolve to pamper.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

MAY 17, 2014, COMMON ERA