Catavistic

The young cat will not quit.
He’s stalking phantoms,
Clawing curtains, leaping
Screen doors, attacking
Movement large and small.
Archetypal hunter in his
Hour of vestigial fury
Scampers, zig-zags,
Paws, pounces,
Burrows, bites....

Finally, just a sweet,
Tired kitty, he rests...

But uh-oh, no – his ears
Now perk to morning birds
From mystery worlds beyond,
And here he comes again!
Nosing and clawing cracks
Between sofa pillows,
Biting me for interference!
There’s something there!
Or is it his own tail?!

Now a sniff,
A shift, a
Gently explorative
Paw on my pen
On the page.

Go to sleep, little guy –
It’s morning.