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Cats

 Cats no less liquid than their shadows
Offer no angles to the wind.
They slip, diminished, neat through loopholes Less than themselves; will not be pinned To rules or routes for journeys; counter Attack with non-resistance; twist Enticing through the curving fingers And leave an angered empty fist.
They wait obsequious as darkness Quick to retire, quick to return; Admit no aim or ethics; flatter With reservations; will not learn To answer to their names; are seldom Truly owned till shot or skinned.
Cats no less liquid than their shadows Offer no angles to the wind.

Poem by A S J Tessimond
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things