by Barbara Crooker
Look at me sitting in green and gold splendor,
outlined in red dots, fitting decoration
for a royal design. I’ve no doubt that cats
are the finest of God’s creations. I’ve a place
of my own on this strong piece of vellum,
four lines from the top, the best part of the page.
My garden’s a heaven of strokes in a row
made by ink and the sharp tip of a feather—
birds, so delicious, I eat them for tea.
What all these humps mean, I haven’t a clue;
perhaps they are mouse holes? I’ll sit here
and wait. They must be important because
I’m here to guard them. Unless, of course,
something better comes by, like a butterfly
to chase or a nap in the corner. Excuse me,
I’m yawning, and there, by the fire,
is a very soft cushion, so tempting,
good night.