Bonsai

I have a little bonsai tree.

By some miracle it has survived while all the other houseplants died.

Oh sure, a couple of them hung on for as long as they could,

their leaves curling and turning brown on the edges.

In a last ditch effort, I moved them to the patio for some fresh air and sunshine

and that finished the job.

Poor things.

But this little bonsai sat on the shelf next to the kitchen sink

and strained towards the light of the window.

The thin little trunk curved towards the sunbeams.

I turned it around thinking maybe it would straighten itself out.

Then I decided to just move it in front of the window.

Why should it struggle when I could just move it.

I wasn't thinking.

I let the cats upstairs,
they laid in the windowsills,

wrestled with the little dogs,

slept on my laptop 

rubbed their faces against mine

and ran from Nora.

Finally it was dinner time and I went downstairs to give them fresh water and fill their food bowls.

I came back upstairs, shut the door

and found my little bonsai tree.

I'm sure there's a metaphor here somewhere but I have no idea what it is.