Lucky Plastic Cat

The blinds had not been dropped last night, in the living room. The morning was free to enter in, stripe the room in light.

At the window Maneki Neko sits, sunrise facing, beckoning in, her plastic-cat eyes slinky and unblinking.
Maybe like my camera she sees the distance as a bloom of searing white.
Maybe like me she sees unleafed trees; heavy trunks, intricate twigs; against silvery river mist; clouds painterly pink, fiery orange, over a hill; a midnight green hill; a landscape in monochrome and colour.
Maybe her sight is no more than the work of the solar powered sensor: maybe even that is imaginary, merely fancy.
But I like the way her arm clicks, her purposeful composure.
And in view of this, sat at the table where coffee steams from a regal mug, I grant her perfect vision.


  1. Perhaps she is a study in maybe. Or perception.

  2. I like, best of all, that she is lucky.

  3. Much of life is feeling I must do something when I detect light --much like a maneki-neko with solar-powered continuously beckoning arm. Sometimes I think I'm a rather simple mechanism.

  4. Perception I think Jacqueline, because that's what luck is made of (maybe!)
    She is lucky, Suze, she has that perfect cat confidence about it too :-)
    Simple things are best Geo: doesn't mean they aren't profound. Quite the opposite xx


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