On my kitchen table

sits a tabby cat.

She glances at the shadows in the corners

of my dining room;

they are dancing in the evening firelight

The fervor in her stares

makes me wonder

if a small ethereal bird was perched

somewhere beyond my sight.

Her tail whips,

and from my lounge chair

I can just see her claws grip

into the linen tablecloth.

With pupils dilated,

she shrinks down, preparing a pounce

and begins to chatter at the walls.

I set a cup down on my coffee table,

with a sound too slight

to grab my attention,

but just enough to jar the tabby

from her ancient dance of beasts.

She turns to notice me once again,

and in almost a single bound,

she reaches her warm wool bed next to the fireplace,

and with a slight twitch of her tail

toward our cozy fire,

she lets me know that tomorrow

it will rain.