Poetry

(in answer to Gabeba Baderoon)
 
I have not been able
to learn to love failure,
and see no truth, find no fulfilment
in almost having, almost succeeding
and keep on trying
until I have success at last
 
and the wild black-and-white housecat
arches up its back and purrs loving
at my stroking hand reaching out
turns into the most adoring pet
 
and the pecking black-collard barbet
at the window
is framed clear
where it’s eyeing me
becomes part of the aperture,
becomes part of my life,
becomes my early morning wakeup call.