House cat
Sometimes he's all purrs,
sitting there in the sun
eyes closed, apparently relaxed
his thrashing tail the only sign
of impending mischief.
But it's over in a flash
and then he's a fluffy mass
of pounce, destroy and bite.
Wild, fierce, like his cousins
who must be fierce to survive.
Instinct, I guess.
But then he's tired,
and the only battle left to fight
is over which bed he should sleep on.
enjoy this kitty poem... descriptive and delightful especially so the tie-in to their instinct and wilder nature... that last line was a shoe-in... here kitty kitty
ReplyDeleteThank you, pieceofpie! :)
ReplyDeletereally nice. Don't wiggle your toes under the blankets :)
ReplyDeleteHaha. Yes, he does have a fascination with toes under blankets (as you well know), but when he's in a particular mood, anything that moves is fair game. :p
ReplyDelete