the calm and the storm

It's peace that lets you know you've been disturbed;
it's calm that lets you know the storm is coming.
Without comfort, you can't know you're perturbed,
without ease you can't feel the pain that's numbing.
Don't trust the stillness: it will never last,
although you cling to it with trembling fingers.
All too soon, what's good will be what's past,
for chaos and regret are all that lingers.
Enjoy the peace, but please don't be mistaken,
don't think that it will last beyond the day.
Don't rely on calm: you'll be forsaken.
Can't you see the storm is here to stay?
You can trust in pain and cloudy skies,
for sweetness, light, and sunshine are all lies.

Mocha

This little tabby cat with squished-in face,
this little purrbox which only breathes in wheezes,
this feline with her species' typical grace,
this cat that gets up in your face and sneezes,
this compact kitty chasing one who's fatter,
this lonely cat who just wants to make friends,
this feline who thinks toys are no great matter,
who sleeps behind my legs in my knees' bends,
oh Mocha, though you are my sister's cat,
I turn my pen to write this little ode.
Sneeze at me again-- I'll turn you into a hat,
and wear your tabby fur when it gets cold.
I'm joking, of course, you're much too cute to kill,
though I hope when I see you again you won't be ill.