"Come here, Kitty, Kitty. Chuck, chuck!" and she flies
to me as to her lost mother, maybe;
then false recognition drains and she backs,
(Who the fish are you? What am I doing here?)
sniffs proffered finger-end, turns away,
busies her cheek glands on the privet hedge -
other cats, birds and, oh, chiwawa scents.
(Neighbor took that wandering dog - two-doors-down
just wanted shot of him - Yeah, such people!)
she's next-door's too, shaved not long from her spay,
let out afternoon to play. It would rain
but precipitates so feathery first.
She explores strange spaces between the sheds,
reaches her gangling paws over grass stalks
winter beat down to stubbly obstacles,
wiggles in her haunch-hunkered crouch to spring
at my rippling fingers; smacks me mid palm
with velvet paw - then off on jink jumping
long 'arms' stiff-out striking-in at a midge,
or at her own imagination's bait.
Rain so steadily, imperceptibly
to begin with, curtails explorations.
See her on the fence, sniffing at cat trails.
Think she'll be a bird killer; she's so quick -
those tall legs, stuffed full of good reflexes.
But so soon, she's mewling to be in dry,
and they're listening out solicitously.
Cat's gone, and this droll daylight's near over.
Kitchen window's pearled, crying yet again;
and I look past its pleading to the thorns -
their elegant screen stuck in dusky gloom.
