Six Orange Cats

Six Orange Cats

I was sitting under the bridge over the creek.
A bag flew over my head and splashed in the water. The creek was running low that summer.

I heard some squeaks from the burlap bag
as I ran into the water and pulled the bag out.
I took it to the bank and opened it.
Out spilled a bunch of wet little creatures,
helpless and tiny and clinging to each other.

I read in the paper later that week that a man was killed when a burlap bag blew up from his rusty floorboards and tangled in his feet when he tried to brake for a curve down 101. His old pickup went straight through the rail into the ice cold lake.

Six orange kittens sit on the ledge of my front window, licking their paws after their meal and smiling and they seemed to know about the story in the paper.