I see you, says the shivering cat
to the wind that ruffles her fur.
Your fingers are blue, your face is fat
and you rush around without a hat.
I see you, says the shivering cat,
and turns her back and will not purr.
I see you, says the shivering cat,
to the wind that ruffles her fur.
Picking Katie up from a party the other day, her friend's mother said "Do you know a poet called John Terry ?"
I admitted that I do indeed know him.
They'd been Googling him, and found my pictures on Flickr.
They told me the story about why they'd been Googling for John.
Ten years ago, young L had asked "Can cats see the wind?"
This question was passed on to John, and he wrote this poem.
It is a nice story, and a nice poem, so I did this picture for it. The weather vane with a gudgeon on it is in Bradford on Avon, on the roof of the lock-up in the middle of the bridge over the Avon; I got the idea for that from Bella, who painted another weather vane in B-on-A the other day.
