Carol’s feline has arrived bearing bestest mews:

She will lead Jingle Cats’s plygain from the pews.

Some do say such songs sound just like the ones for heat,

But, then, bloke in cloak deems they merit each a treat.

“Meow, where are pat-pets and fresh catnip for my paws.?”

“Oh, that time’s almost here, my merry Kitty Claus!” ; )

Earth’s urgrund:

That which rises, warms,

That which warms, cools,

Meaning that

Every state of being in time

Matters

Only as a force towards—

Peace. ; )

‘Twas a bit fishy that for Santa’s eats

Were placed anchovies instead of baked sweets.

Christmas, though, cheers even the salty coast,

So Nick rewarded his thoughtfulest host,

Pulling from his dorlach an apt prezzie—

A piscine peace scene hooked just for their tree. ; )

Desire to change

May not easily take root

And, as well, repastination

Might not ever over-turn new leaves,

But attempts and tries,

Never fearing reaches for the skies,

Merit commendations by constellations—

Colouring a character not of black

And not of white,

But, most certainly, of inspiring light. ; )

Captured kitty—not from city—intent to lam,

Focused just like they do on a stereogram.

If only she could collimate the bars just right,

Her fur-frame could squeeze through—even if a bit tight.

Then, new mew would be free to again, around roam

On other side of fairless fence—her happy home. ; )