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.