House Cat

He sits with eyes of lime,
marks time with his metronomic tail.
He cannot sing or speak or swim,
but there is nothing wrong with him.

With gray face at the window,
his bones recall dark jungles.

He sits with pointed ears,
still senses subtle harmonies.
He cannot roam beyond the frame,
but his eyes know from whence they came.

With a nose on the wind,
he'd track his prey for days.

He sits with stomach rumbling a
near-distant falling minor chord.
He cannot mark the scent of blood,
but knows the eating will be good.

With legs like water running,
he'd close the deadly gap.

He sits with claws extended,
an aria upon his toes.
He cannot hunt or track his prey,
but does not fear he'll starve today.

With gleaming teeth he'd greet
the sweet flesh of his labors.

He stands with curving back,
drops a note at mistress's feet.
He well recalls his burning bright
in the forests of the night.

With green eyes upraised
he sings sweetly for his meal:

"Rrrrrrrowl!"