He is an old cat
Shrinking every day
Into his baggy black
Suit of knobbly bone and
Matted fur.
He is a not so young cat
As he once was flopping
Into favourite spots: now
Instead a careful, cautious
Setting into place.
He is the same old cat
With which we are
Comfortable ruling our
Place; yellow eyed glare at
Our unruliness.
He is an ageless cat
Folded into strange parts
In the fallen leaves of autumn
Grooming and licking the matt
Into lace.
He is a cool old cat
Baleful stare ignoring
The titch titch incitement
To misbehave; far too mature
For that.
Today, a very young cat;
Smooth, wetted down lace
Drying in the sun. Yellow eyed
Stare, unblinking from his
Sunny nest.
