Amber Rose Crowtree
Selected Poem
Our Golden-Tabby Kitty
--for Greg
Our kitty is a prospector by instinct.
We find her curled inside the green
Garrett Gravity Trap gold pan,
glowing in the afternoon sunshine, like a
gold nugget. She fits perfectly, purring.
Before heading to the river, we find
golden-red hairs from her blessing the pan.
Like the rich, red-haired, leprechaun
dressed in green, coveting the pot-of-gold,
our kitty has a naturally-constant smile.
This morning, she is splayed inside the
green Dream Mat sluice—the girth of her
body is where the gold flakes glitter inside
the unicorn, if you’re lucky. Again,
the afternoon sunshine beams in her fur.
What dreams are occurring so peacefully?
She looks up sleepily with her glinting
yellow-topaz eyes that claim we are the
luckiest, prospecting, cat-people alive.
Amber Rose Crowtree
First published in InterTown Record, NH
