Railroading Into Cat Tail Marsh

Taking photos of curving cats’ tails—
cat-tree marsh—
carpeted-platform trails.

Both cattails and cat’s tails can blow like sails
in the breeze, in cat trees or in marshes—
I can take photos of cat tails,

but a cold wind nails
my face as I cross Selby bridge—
ice-carpeted boot-sole trail—

snow-track reality failing
once for all to harsh my happy illusion
I’m grooming the carpeted-platform trails

of blesséd love—satisfaction washing
over me like light from a mountain-larch-
tree grove (maybe too far north for cattails)

when I think of my work these last few days.
Winter offers a witch’s
warmth, like my waving cats' tails—
paw-prints between, not beside, the rails.