This
early April
Morning tried to
squeeze wearily through the
window blinds like a tomcat who'd
enjoyed too many fights
the night before.
~ ~ ~
Pawing the shades, he
attempted to wriggle between,
bloody and torn-eared; scruffy, determined
to rouse us from our fleeting slumber
for a stroke, a forgiving love,
and some tasty vittles.
~ ~ ~
A cat might have received,
but Morning brought no excuses. He
arrived unwanted, rejected, glaring mercilessly
into our eyes. He was a wild, incorrigible, self-designated
eccentric; and we slammed the window,
pulled tight the curtains. But
he sat outside howling.
And
there was no rest.