Garfield, Good Fellow, 1997 - 2011
As if the waves of water part, when swim,
I peer, by peeling back the papered bark
Of crystal-boughèd tree (whose crown in seas
Of studded-flash of black does blow its green
And luminescent leaves), within the pith
Of pulpy xylem, and I hear within the echoed pulse
Of beating song that stirs fermented saps, a sound.
First faint, a newer strand, a fresh motif
Of orange-blazèd mew, and padded paws
On dark and dewy grass as heads he forth
For family grounds of mine in lower realms,
My cat, this midnight last his breath in-took ;
And know within the surging choir hid
Invisible beneath all things, his wise meow
Shall now resound, as wisdom realized, all
Within the all of inner depths of all, from roots
So thick and gnarled, down, how far
Their downing goes, O no one knows ; but there,
In nestled valley meadows, where my hall
Of elders’ roof is raised beside the mountain gardens,
He shall purr ; and trill from his enwisened purr
Shall pulse within the pith of tree, and nourish me,
And all my kin, and you, as well, if feline wit
In old and graceful strength you’d claim as wise.
I do, I do, I do ; adieu, O sweetest Garfield.
Let tears of mine be dew
That softens all the pathways’ meadows
As you pitter-patter to the steps of where
My friend two years of late did pass
Shall warm and welcome you, with soft caresses.