The confoundingest thing on our Earth this young year
had begun, people say, with a little girl’s tear.
Her best friend in this world was a kitten named Flo,
a cute constant companion wherever she’d go.
But without an alarm or a collar or bell
Flo would wander sometimes—quite reluctant to tell
where she’d gone. She was found on a dark basement stair
the first time, but a second and scarier scare
brought the neighbors to hunt when they heard the girl call
for her kitty outdoors this past colorful fall.
Flo had found a way out by herself to the street
just to play in the leaves, we suppose. It was neat
to pounce onto the piles, then to watch as they flew
everywhere as capricious fall winds blew and blew.
Well, the God-fearing folk helped her find her lost friend,
no doubt saving them both from a premature end
to their fun and a sack full of wonderful dreams
in which happiness swells till it busts out the seams.
The whole block was delighted to see them grow strong
in their bonding and faith, and wished nothing but long
life and health—but a grumpy old man who walked past
every day simply scowled and he thought, it won’t last,
and besides, who could care about such tender stuff
when what counts most today is to be firm and tough.
**********************
[Self-reliance, we know, is a valuable trait,
but it isn’t enough for a desperate state.
There are people in such a deplorable fix
they wear cardboard for clothes and for food they oft mix
for their tummies mere clay, leaves and grass as they strive
to keep life in gaunt bodies just barely alive.]
***********************
There is war everywhere and there has been since men
learned to count. And it seemed a small matter that when
we had guns we cared less about how people dealt
with their stomachs and hearts and how little kids felt.
Two millennia ago mankind started to pray
and though nobody knew a deliberate way
to secure global peace they continued to grope
for solutions and respite and reasons to hope.
But harsh treaties and stalemates are of meager avail
while indifference and hate are allowed to prevail.
*************************
Well, one day in mid-winter Flo again disappeared.
It was colder than cold and her friend strongly feared
that the weather itself would put hope on the shelf.
She was out all night long, till she near froze herself.
When the sun dimly made its appearance next day
she was still at curbside and just kneeling to pray
when the grump came along, his own breath coming hard.
He paused briefly to ask what was wrong in her yard
to keep little girls kneeling and shivering so
that the grownups with sense had to pace to and fro.
She looked up at him sadly and shaking her head
said that Flo had gone off as she readied for bed--
didn’t come when she called. She had stopped at each door
as she rounded the block (in her PJs). Once more
old grump asked what could be so important to her
as a small scraggly bundle of matted down fur.
Then before she could answer they both heard a sound
and it came from a perch very high off the ground.
“There she is,” said the girl, her tears frozen in place,
“on that limb, plain as day, like the nose on my face.”
Old grump melted a bit and declared it was high,
adding then, “it’s too bad I have pain in my thigh.”
The girl took his rough hand and said, “Please, mister, please.”
And his breath became raspy, resembling a wheeze.
“I’ll just give it one try, then I really must go.
What’s her name? Did you say that your kitty is Flo?”
As she nodded he reached to begin his long climb,
like a circus performer some years past his prime.
Grump called up as he rose and Flo answered him back.
He gained skill as he went, a long lost boyhood knack.
When at last face to face he said, “Please come down, Flo.
I’m too old for this work and I need you to know.”
And she did! She stepped right on his hand, then his sleeve--
and proceeded on down to the girl, I believe.
All Flo needed, he gave; but he got something too.
Now so help me, this story is virtually true.
Climbing down, the man found, is a much harder strain;
his tired feet sought strong purchase but mostly in vain.
It’s much trickier work if one leg just won’t track.
Down below the girl heard a most frightening crack.
Her old climber was over ten feet from the ground
when he fell, and the thud was a sickening sound
for he came crashing down to land smack on his head
as a gathering crowd found themselves filled with dread.
Pretty soon there were people all over the place
and Flo circled the scene with pain etched on her face.
By this time there were medical folks and film crews
hot to headline the story on that evening’s news.
When the coroner made his report that cold morn
tiny Flo and her pal looked completely forlorn.
This new thing in their lives that they hadn’t expected
disappeared just as fast and they now felt neglected.
********************
Well, the rescue and death made the newswires so fast
that the girl and her kitty were soon to be cast
as exemplars of something so fine their celeb
spread to Facebook and Youtube and all over the web.
As they told of old grump and his sudden soft heart
many viewers were moved thus to try to take part
in what now was a movement to think of the lost
and forgotten, no matter the personal cost.
There was even a terrorist, one writer claims,
who had rescued a puppy all tangled in chains.
********************
Once back home, the girl went to the old man’s grave site;
she felt close to him now, and went morning and night.
She took chalk with her too and while holding a lamp
added just these three eloquent words: THANK YOU GRAMP.
