As I descend the cellar steps

and pause but halfway down

to peek below…

a warm light flows

from windows

recessed high up

in smoothed cement walls

that peer out over

grass-green lawn.

This basement space –

large and open as it is,

its floor a level plane

of low-pile carpet –

lacks most namesake objects.

No furnace here,

nor workbench,

hot-water heater, or

storage shelves.

It is not, however,

empty.

A score of cardboard boxes

the area defines,

pushed against the walls,

and at its center cluster.

And each box —

by cat with kittens,

or a rabbit and her kits —

is occupied.

Each mother tends her litter –

grooming,

nursing,

nurturing –

in unworried fashion.

Paused upon the stairs,

I hear the unbroken,

contented

purr.

Back up those stairs

I creep so

I do not

disturb.

 

— C.Birde, 7/18