Sitting on the step, a tiny cat for company,
I listen to nothing so much as the wind
In the pines, and the occasional snap of a branch.
The cat likes to be petted on her own terms,
She tells me she is done by grabbing my hand
Placing teeth ever so slightly on skin.
Reminder to me that she COULD tear in,
But chooses not to do that,
Mercy in a tiny package.
No comments:
Post a Comment