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