Indian Time

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