A Hand Up

(For Nefertiti)

My old gray cat no longer jumps
From floor to countertop
The way she did when young,
Effortless, graceful leaping,
An art form like ballet,
Where thought and motion merge.

Her timeworn body
No longer serves her well,
Stiff joints, weak muscles, so
Just climbing from the rug
Into an armchair
Requires some thought and time.

Thus I give her a hand up,
Discreetly so as not
To bring embarrassment
Before the others,
Smiling together at our little joke
That she might need my help.

©2005 John I. Blair

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