The Black Cat

A Fairy Tale

In through the back door

with the southerly wind,

from the lush Autumn yard,

the black cat strode in.

Meanwhile, the bats

colonized the easternmost face

of the house, above

in the attic space.

Wrapped in magic,

the house was cocooned.

A metamorphosis transpiring

within every wall and every room.

Inside, in the dark,

the couple slept and sometimes cried,

but mostly smiled, with the black cat

at their side.

Until one day, the woman cut her golden hair.

Unknowingly, she broke the spell.

And the bats dispersed into the darkness of morning,

banished from the home where they used to happily dwell.

The wind stole in

as a crack scarred the cocoon,

and caught in a gust,

the black cat flew.

The couple gasped

and grasped for her,

even as the black cat sprouted

her own wings of fur.

Then slowly the sun rose,

dissolving the illusion —

lighting the emptiness

of the devastation.

And the woman with her golden hair

now graying in the sun,

Looks with anticipation to the west,

for the wind, again, to come.

~ M.