Kitty in the Christmas Tree

A rustle of scratchy, green plastic, subtle and suspicious,
Faint from sneaky paws, so sweet, so sly;
Kt-tsh-tsh-tsh … psh, psh,
Kt-tsh-tsh-tsh … psh, psh.

The sharp tingle of sentinel, ruby bells shake and sing,
Shrill in the still, so small, so striking;
Ting … ka-ting, ting,
Ting … ka-ting, ting.

A pause. A breath. Anticipatory silence,
Awaiting those telling tones, the rustle and the bells.
A shift. A faint brush of fur on cloth and lace.
The hushed, constant tiger purr, so playful, so nonchalant.

The rustles again! Faster. Louder.
The glowing greenery shivers, like quaking prey caught in fright not flight.
The bells are chiming! More. Louder.
They shake and chime like one thousand shrieking alarms.

I rush to the tree, everything halts as also do I,
Yet, the evidence is clear, there is no mistake.
The bells jangle then slow their shake,
And the greenery ceases its quiver.

Large, pointy pink ears atop a tiny face flick,
Soft cream and caramel stripes still;
A rosy nose tucks behind a branch,
Once again, he is caught in the act.

Wide, peridot eyes stare right into mine,
Brimming with faux innocence, mischief, and pride.
What is this I see right here, amidst the bells and lights?
Oh no! Merlin is in the tree AGAIN!