A book of poetry in my lap
In a chair facing the sun

My skin remembers this feeling
And like a sunflower I move phototropically
To receive the maximum effect

Skooter, a black cat with white paws, whiskers, and throat
Pads across the lawn to join me

He rubs his face vigorously against my sandals
Then leaps to my lap
Rubbing now, insistently, against my hand

I try to read the words of a great poet
But I am defeated by Skooter’s movements

I relax to the sun’s warming rays, closing my eyes
Skooter relaxes too

—

A man in the sun
Looking down toward printed words
A cat knows better