The moon didn’t disappear,

Tonight,

Because of the total eclipse.

It bathed Partridge Island

In blood,

As it turned dark.

There was no way to convince

Paw, my cat/kitten,

Black as an eclipse

With one white mitten,

That it wasn’t dripping blood.

He spat

He howled

He bared his teeth

And claws

He paced

He sometimes cowered

(I swear from exhaustion, as

the bloody thing went on

and on).

I finally threw a towel

Over him,

And tucked him

Into a closet.

Closed the door,

And talked to him.

(I confess, using baby talk),

’till the blood stopped.

It exhausted me, too.

And, when the moon shone full,

I let Paw out, and took him

For a walk outside.

If cats could howl at the moon

That is what he would have done.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2025 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}