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 ©