To my Cat, Daisy May, at her Window
Before my office with a view, I wondered:
how could you stare at empty bushes for hours,
sustained by mere hope of a squirrel sighting?
Yet, I gaze as intently as you when
I behold the parade four floors down: one
woman after another in a short
skirt, high heels, coffee cup in hand, strides by.
At first, vertigo threatens when I look
down into cleavage canyons. Fall settling
in, plunging necklines yield to turtlenecks.
Sometimes in the wintry desert, pastel
platform pumps appear, shocking as red dog boots.
Still, I’m content as you, to dream away
the season through half-closed eyes, recalling
imagined glories of springtime chases,
an armchair hunter only.
Toni Artuso is a transfemale writer based in Salem, MA. Recently retired from a 30-year career in educational publishing, she is now transitioning, as well as refocusing on her writing. Her poems have appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, The Aurorean, Ibbetson Street Press, Italian Americana, Main Street Rag, Pegasus, Pine Island Journal, Poetry Depth Quarterly, U.S. Catholic, Late Knocking, Z Miscellaneous, and Poetpourri.