Cat Walk
Curled wisteria branch, purple pregnant,
emits an admirable fragrance, nectar sweet,
attracting absurd little bees, their costly harvest
caught in tiny golden sacks of honeyed treat.
My tabby cat stalks the genial garden
between blue iris and peonies, pink,
an excellent engineer of hunting prowess,
her generous tail bent in orange feline kink.
Over and over she paces the trails
between the blossoming rows of floral order
caring not an iota for the creatures
scrambling toward the garden’s border.
This stalking! The song birds grow irritable
and her soundless shadowing quiets the air;
I watch the scene from cottage window
behind sheer sheltering lace in kindly chair.
Oh, how I appreciate this morning beauty
spread in ravishing abundance all around;
the dance of nature, the careful balance,
the gifts of gracious God that everywhere abound.
My cat will tire and meander homeward,
beg entrance with meowing knock; the still
garden will return to quiet, peaceful pleasure
beneath her sleepy one-eyed watch from window sill.
Copyright, July 6, 2016
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2016
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