A Noise in the Next Room Can’t Be Explained by the Cat

Early sun lights only treetops. Below
in the gloom wild daylilies closed tight.
No cat shedding his coat
onto the cushion I have turned

to the clean side. He was not
batting my leg asking for milk
as I made coffee. He is not
sitting on my keyboard now

I have left doors to forbidden
rooms wide open, brought in
forbidden Queen Anne’s lace
and larkspur for the table.

He is deep in the earth now,
flower-strewn beneath rosemary
I walk out the door of his absence.
Sunlight reaches the lilies.
They open their mouths
for one day of blooming
singing their orange song,
anyway.