Cat’s Breakfast

  I live day-to-day, ritually, I suppose; 
  slough off sleep, get up, compose our breakfast 
  bustling creakily, kettle on, 
  open the back door, light thickening the day. 
  Miaow, I greet our cat, to feed him. 
  Mrkgnao, he responds ghosting inside. 
  I have started re-reading Joyce again.