The tiniest sound, right out
on the edge of hearing
rolls and rings with hardly a disturbance
of the air.
Buying a cat bell in a pet store,
by the usual sounds
of commerce and verbal exchange,
the sound seems so minimal as to be
negligible, so insignificant
as to raise the question
Yet, at home, attached to MaChree’s purple collar,
it signals his presence without intruding,
and is an official messenger of relief.
Cats hide, and stay hidden,
frequently changing favourite places –
but one turn of the head and the cat bell announces
even the strangest
I find now, in these later, busy years,
that my own life
rings like a cat bell,
sounding from hiding places I thought I knew.
And just like finding MaChree
in some unfamiliar hiding place,
I find a new door to a new room
opening in my old, tired heart,
announced by a cat bell of singular,
almost imperceptible sound.
I have to listen to hear it.
I have to turn away from the push of necessities.
I have to stand still
inside if not out,
as if listening for far away, intriguing music
as the cat bell of my soul
calls me home.