by Marge Simon
Sonnet to a Stray Cat
You came to me full grown with ocher eyes
To hold me in their thrall this darkest night.
Outside my door you bartered for my light,
Until, distracted by your feline cries,
Persistent yowls disturbing me to rise,
I let you in. Your coat of anthracite,
Warms to my touch, yet vanishes from sight
Into the evening shadows’ compromise.
Wanton beggar, you’re certainly no prize,
Nor am I, for all my profound insight.
Yet we could share our miserable lives,
And should you be inclined by innate right
With lunar fantasies to fraternize,
Then as my welcome guest, don’t be contrite.