The Lord of My Garden
The Lord of my garden has just come in from outside to the house
He muffles a noise, a growling of sorts, as he is carrying in a mouse
He lays it on the floor, it is very stiff, no longer moving or breathing
I am sure he slays for enjoyment, because he still needs his feeding
After food, cat is sleeping, slightly twitching, I think he is dreaming
Imagining his next victim, captured by sharp claws, dying, screaming
Outside in the undergrowth, sighs of relief from beleaguered mice
Gossiping together in the daylight, they agree that my cat is not nice
The birds whistle a song from the branches on high, all safe for now
Soon they will all scatter to dark corners on hearing his mighty meow
Patrick Brennan ©
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