The cat and the jarrah tree. A love poem.1994, Edinburgh Festival, Edinburgh.

The cat? She was wandering,

Tail in the air.

Wishing and whistling

A care free air.

She prowled in the forest,

Basked in the sun.

Beginning to dance in the knowledge of ‘one’.

The jarra tree stood,

Strong, in the glade.

It bent slightly over

And gave her shade.

The jarrah tree!

The jarrah tree!

Such a wonderful sight.

It leaves were made of laughter

It’s mighty stem-bark, silver, light.

It seemed, to her, to be beckoning,

from its sky edged height.

Now,many trees this cat had climbed

But none like this she’d scaled,

Those waving boughs, that she could see,

A beckoning, sunny sanctuary.

Up there, if hunters came,with cry and wail,

She’d sunbathe safe and twitch her tail,

She’d bathe in that sunshine all day,

Be welcome as long as she chose to stay,

(as long as the jarrah tree allowed),

“Let me up….” the cat,

she meowed.

But, although she purred and rubbed its bark.

There,

In the dark,

The jarrah tree continued to shelter,

The little cat from hunting predator,

But no ladder dropped, no bended bough,

The cat wondered exactly how

She could not, would not be able to even,

Make it, all the way up, to that little piece of heaven,

That beckoned with such great allure.

That cat, despite this, still was sure,

that there was something like ‘love’ there,

Up in those leaves and singing air.

Then the cat grew hungry and could not stay.

The jarrah tree, still, refused to play,

But tho’ she was never let up, inside,

Her love for him she could not hide,

In her heart she will, always, be

Somehow connected to

The jarrah tree.

That laughing tree, she had once felt calling,

And even in Autumn, when its leaves are falling,

She wishes it well

May the sunshine play

In its boughs forever and a day.

The cat she left with a heavy heart

Sad to have never played a main part

In the wonderful life of the jarrah tree.

One day maybe,

She’ll wander again into that forest glade

Stop again to feel its shade.

The tree will bend and welcome her.

The cat?

She’d frolic and rub and purr.

Offer, again, her silky fur

And play together, in a fantasy,

The jarrah tree and she.

And even if that was never to be,

What a beautiful memory,

The sweet, sweet shade of a

jarrah tree.

(2015– I wanted to include this love poem I wrote all those years ago. I broke my normal ‘stay true to the diary’ rule and heavily reworked this,as its original form was,even more,clumsy and awkward!)

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