i am a tiger
wearing the mantle of ancient words
torn and clinging
a queen in disguise
impatient i pace
under the protection of a culture
which leaves me cold
stalking monuments of nature’s making
mossy stones and buzzing flower bowls
Born in the year 1950, I am a tiger sign on the Chinese calendar, something I recently rediscovered. We were “building a home for our dreams” in Muse Group. My image at first seemed bizarre, unrelated certainly to any conscious thoughts I have about a home for dreams. But, ah yes, the pacing tiger, so impatient with the over-culture I live in, preferring nature’s offerings for a home.
I frequently look with envy at Phil, our cat. He’s the same color as this tiger yet without the stripes, same sinuous body movements. He gets to live outside, down low in the green grasses right now, stretching languorously in the sun, watching bird television all day. While I have to worry about sun damage to my skin and ticks, and have no time (or so it seems) to sit and just watch all day the orchestral movements of birds and buds. Sigh.