Stalk the pavement,
Jump up on a wall
And arch your tail
As a dog barks in the night.
This is your feline time,
Shadows cast by the moon's
Radiance, hiding under wheels
Of cars or on walls and rooftops:
You are silent with padded feet.
Overlooking your dark domain,
An intruder comes and challenges,
Stiff fur, a screech and a hiss
Like fat in the frying pan;
A shadowy flurry of movement and claws.
Back in the house you curl up,
Fur soft and yielding to
Eager fingers and hands that stroke
And produce a rhythmic purr with
Always the threat of a vengeful scratch.
Copyright © Peter Taylor