Alone

It is cold tonight, and wet.

Tomorrow, my tomatoes just planted 

will be dead. 

Our cats are inside, and warm, and content 

as only cats can be. 

For cats, time is only now. 

Mother is in bed although it is yet quite early. 

She is old as we all will be too soon. 

She cannot walk, stand, or even sit without some help. 

Barbara is at church,

at choir practice,

in preparation for our Easter music.

I am at home with the cats, 

but not as content as they, 

trying to understand what is and why. 

It is cold outside, and wet.

But a new day will come

and all will look different,

yet remain the same.  q