I recently read Patrick McDonnell's South,
a tender tale of a cat who helps a lost bird find its migrating flock.
The book doesn't have any words, nor does it need them. But I couldn't
resist writing a bit about it myself. Here's a little accompanying
poem I wrote.
South
As autumn dies, the last leaf falls.
Migration calls; the first bird flies.
A silent flap, a hopeful tune.
As one, they rise into the skies.
And yet below, a straggler wakes.
Of all mistakes, the lowest blow.
So far from June, a chilly trap
With miles to go 'midst leaves and snow.
A furry friend at once draws near.
This cat will cheerfully attend
To every need with gentle care
'Til journey's end lies 'round the bend.
Their kinship shelters, strengthens both.
He keeps the oath. Clear as a bell,
Song fills the air. The bird takes heed.
But first, farewell. What tales he'll tell!