Poetry, An Affinity with Sheep and other poems

It depends on your point of view

Cat thinks this is his own world. Why else

would he silently stalk a single sparrow

waiting to teach him a final feathered lesson

about territory? Why hiss at intruders?

Cat chooses the sun-spot on the stone wall,

surveying the garden plot. An uninvited feline

is quickly dismissed with a stretch,

ruffled fur and bared teeth.

A mere human gardener is ignored,

a bird above, or a bee’s flight

is observed with one lazy eye,

a stupid spider crushed, released

Cat forgets to stay alert, yawns, sleeps,

dreaming of sardines, licking his lips.

There are things Cat doesn’t understand.

He is mine; it is my garden.

But, he can have his dreams.