Sunday, September 19, 2010

The Hungry Squirrel

Placid, he rests on my lap.
Our eyes closed in the afternoon sun.
We hear a rustle, like rubbed pebbles, at the window.
With a flash of perked ears, my cat is on the ground.
Along the thin screen, a scrim of his world,
He follows a waving squirrel's tail.
A lone red berry cupped in tan paws.
The ruby orb picked for a late summer nosh.
With each jerk of the head, the squirrel chomps and bobs,
Soon looking down on bare, thin paws.
With a bound, the squirrel scurries away.
My black cat turns and comes to me.
O feline, your nature eludes me still.
Even now, as you softly purr on my sleeve.

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