The River

Stepha Kaye and Ima Gen (B. Marquardt-Alexander is retiring. I am taking over this now). A Siamese cat, with bright emerald eyes Light and dark in the night looked on With an element of surprise. He searched high and low after midnight For milky goodness, sweet and white. A feline craving and misbehaving For the only item on which he was sold. He sniffed the bowls, counters, and nooks Knowing he would soon be a crook. But there was no milk to be found So he sat sadly on the ground. Disappointment crept in As the last moon ray swept in He turned to the side Then saw the river in his sight. The sound of the water flow Black the seeds he might sow Somehow, he made it through the window He wished for a perch on a pillow. He found another comfort Not warm or soft, not his concern For in his belief, he found his relief.