My cat, she is the reincarnation
Of some samurai
With a long white whiskery mustache
Who guarded a wintry temple long ago,
Keeping strangers and callers out
So that the thinkers within
Would not be disturbed.

She lies down on her side
Just as he did,
Ready to jump up
In the flash of an instant
And fight.
Other times she whips her tail around,
Cutting the air,
Like he did with his sword,
Practiced and intimidating,
Gripping it with deadly accuracy,
A show of fury,
As I sit in my chair with a cup of green tea
Wondering what to write
In my legal pad notebook.

Warm within her furry robe of calico,
Ever alert and at the ready,
She guards the back deck,
Looking over the garden
With perfect economy of motion
And stillness,
As snow falls,
Her closed eyes open to any intruder.