My cat
sleeps through the hurricane.
Undisturbed by
150 miles-per-hour gusts that
shake houses,
bring down trees,
plunge half a city into darkness.
TV screen is filled with
reporters,
emergency crews,
politicians.
Her head on her paws;
eyes closed;
ear occasionally twitches.
Her inner peace
unshakeable;
the calm of her breathing
contagious.
I should have known the drill by know.
She slept through the Russian invasion to Crimea,
the refugee crisis in Syria,
even the marriage of William and Kate.
I soon catch up with her,
snuggle by her side with a tea and a blanket,
switch to the Comedy Network.
By Shai Ben-Shalom
