Cold, cold city, this Columbus
It's a bit nippy--23 F, wind chill 10 F. My fingers are stiff. The thermostat is a room away, and God only knows where Al Gore and his hot air bandwagon are. So the cat jumps up in my lap while I type, and for awhile I have warm thighs. . . and lots of cat hair as she settles in for a long winter's nap.
cat hair on the floor
cat hair in the vacuum
It won't hold anymore.
Cat hair on the bedspread
cat hair in the sink
cat hair on my best clothes
and not just where you'd think.
Cat hair on my shoulders
cat hair in the pears,
cat hair up the stair well
and on the dining chairs.
Cat o mine, I love you
could not do without
But keep your hair, dear heart,
and not so round about.
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