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The Prowlers
I spied him in the garden
His mask was black and white.
Sometimes the gray was with him
And that often was at night.
They prowled around the maple tree
Then slipped into the shed.
If I ventured out to look for them
They quickly will have fled.
I believe they are my neighbors
Of that I can't be sure.
I've often tried to meet them
Using tuna as a lure.
I stand behind the tilted blinds
Then peer between the slats.
I find it quite amusing
To watch a pair of cats.
Copyright ©
Donna Condron
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