Sparks at night shot from my black cat’s paws,
small lightnings with a blanket-plucking cause.
On summer nights – without a need for tickets –
it’s sweet attending concerts played by crickets.
Obliged to walk the dog in snow at night,
deep beauty mitigates a cold wind’s bite.
From charted data we may learn a lot,
but there are truths we can never plot.
They are priceless – sparrows shattering my sleep,
outside the window chirping, “cheap, cheap, cheap.”
Your loveliness eludes all adjectives,
like waterfalls can’t be held in sieves.
Splendor beyond myself can humble me:
among resplendent blooms, a bumble bee.
Mario A. Pita