Paw, my cat/kitten,
Black as the feathers of night,
With one white mitten,
Is starting, at times,
To put me in my place.
He’s a smart little bugger,
So I let him.
We were walking the perimeter
Of Partridge Island,
Which we do
Once or twice
A week,
When he jumped between my feet,
And damned near tripped me.
Which means
‘Stop, you oaf.’
So I did.
On a scraggly branch,
Of one of the scraggly trees,
Two crows were looking out to sea.
Side-by-side
Moving their heads,
Bob to the left
Bob to the right
Exchanging crow croaks,
Ruffling head feathers,
Throats held up in unison.
Seeing what they see,
Telling each other,
Moving, at times,
In tandem,
Along the scraggly branch,
Upon the scraggly tree.
Joy.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA.UEL
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