the cat, a black fur sausage with yellow Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries to get onto my head. It’s his way of telling whether or not I’m dead.

Margaret Atwood - "February"

The whole poem -

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47787/february-56d2288025b1e

I hope everybody goes and needs this terrific poem. It's a joy to read. Every word is right. The focus of the poem shifts from a cat’s butthole to the spectre of widespread famine and the end of civilization. In like, two stanzas. That’s pretty nimble!

I can't wait for this! Working a happy horse and a warm sunny day -

It's not February yet. Just a few days though.

Barncat isn’t a black cat. More relentlessly gray.With pretty green eyes.

I am very fond of giant flowers that grow in the house in the dead of winter.

Starlings, in the field across the road.

Sunrise in the Greenhouse

Juice !

Juice loves late '60s Grateful Dead.

I need to explore the Fen/Zardoz connection

That’s all I have room for - Thanks for dropping by.