... Oh! Oh!
Do you think of cats?
We have too many cats.
At least, they feast on rats.
Cats. (*) Cats! Cats! (*) Cats.
What do you think of that? I
have seen them with a mole.
Dead, pulled out of his hole.
A delicacy I once was told.
My cats are: Meow.
Some big fat- Meow!
Rat-eating cats. Meow!
I never see them eat a bat.
I guess at night, they sleep or chat.
Cats do not have wings. They cannot fly!
My, oh my, will they wish someday to fly?
At early dawn it is time to prowl. Not for owls.
Meow! They hunt for snakes, insects, some fowl.
Silently, sneakily, stealthy, spying, they P-o-u-n-c-e-!
It’s survival of the fittest, kitty cat style. Buy a bell.
You may see them on the ground or in a tree looking
down. Meow! Sometimes they will play in the sand.
Rolling, flipping around on every inch of ground.
Or you might find them upside down flexing,
Anticipating their morning prowl. Meow.
By and by, success is found.
In their kitty bowl... Meow.
Smiles! Meow, Meow, Smiles!
© (© Dane Smith-Johnsen) January 27, 2010