No creatures are as fine as cats,
asleep perfectly on armchairs,
in the wake of more curtain tears.
The gifts they bring: toads, sparrows, rats!
And how they know the shingled roof,
the long arms of an ancient elm,
with lives that never overwhelm.
Perhaps that's why they're so aloof.
Immortalized by Rilke, Blake,
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: cats