Eyes golden in the morning sun he sat

Hunched on the garden wall, his smoky fur

Vibrant with leashed energy, a king

In every inch from the whiskers to the fat

Short tail, who held for slave and commoner

Benign regard.  Nor did the slightest thing

Escape attention.  He surveyed the flat

Green plain before him and made little stir

Even when birds flew near on daring wing.

His thoughts were deep and still like wine in vat.

Then suddenly he rose and with a bound

Graceful, his muscles rippling like grey silk,

With purpose in his paws he trod the ground

To where his ears had caught the splash of milk.


Weekly Times     6.7.62