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By Jennifer W. MacKenzie / September 22, 1994

Sometime during this first cool night

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the cat jumped on our bed to warm herself.

Early light whitens the rumpled sheet,

touches the silky sleeping fur.

Spine curled, her long legs gather

to a loose bunch of pink mottled toes.

Over shoulder, rib cage, haunch,

the variegated fur stirs with her breath

like wind on tan grassed hills.

And the sooty velvet of her tucked throat

holds autumn's ember.