Feral Cats
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Stray cats are not poor fellows who would live,
Or, rather, they are more than that. They sleep
In sunlight where they find it and forgive
The Great Cat God whose care for them, not deep,
Goes thin so they must sleep beneath the eaves
Of homes that do not love these feral beasts.
The rain comes down. Each furry creature leaves
The drops behind. No Buddhist nuns or priests
Step in. Saint Francis isn’t there. The God
Of sparrows also doesn’t care. These cats
Get on with life, refusing to be awed
By mere religion. They kill mice and rats.
Cats’ dignity is not pathetic. Brave
They are. These cats know well how cats behave.
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