Cicadas buzz the restless air
And twilight turns to dark.
Wind moves through the trees,
Stirring leaves and swaying branches,
Whispering an eternal lullaby
To Chester, who lies buried in a stand of cedar,
Content, perhaps, with his cat’s Thanatopsis:
An orange tabby curled in his magnificent couch,
Sixteen years old, a lifetime spent on two acres of land
Our cat, draping the evening’s pleasant sounds about him as he sleeps.