The Cats On My Block
The feral cats slip stealthy through the night,
their high beam eyes reflect the evening's light.
On padded feet they all stalk my town,
they scale the walls then slither down.
With senses sharp and whiskers tuned,
they all find their way through midnight gloom.
Down endless stairs and darkened way,
they all hunt for unsuspecting prey.
A solitary hunt these cats prefer,
for hidden rodents or sleeping birds.
Across grating, sidewalks and empty lots,
the next night's hunting plan they'll plot,
and then somewhere high where the moonlight seeps,
they will all wait until morning, when most will then sleep.
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