I felt eyes upon me
This morning
From the Mainland.
And it isn’t just me.
Paw, the cat/kitten,
Black as the
Bottom of a barrel,
With one white mitten,
Felt them, too.
We stared back from Partridge Island,
Wondering if someone had set up
A telescope, on a tripod,
From the closest shore.
Or if a spyglass (or two)
Was peering from The Martello Tower,
To catch a glimpse of our
Sequestered life.
Paw gave a hiss
(As he is wont to do),
For he is not fond
Of them Mainlanders.
So, to appease him,
I gave a spit of tobacco,
While secretly wondering
If it was Sister Darling of
The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed),
Pondering her next visit
While reminiscing of the raptures
Of her last.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
kafkaestblog 