In feline dreams
A hot sun gleams
And forest teems
With fur and fowl.
As green eyes gaze
At logs that blaze,
This tiger slays
The great horned owl
That calls each night
From hemlock’s height
And then takes flight
In feathered cowl
And tufted hat.
A touch, a pat—
Once more mere cat
With timid growl.
The embers die
And daydreams fly
On clouds too high
To stalk or prowl.
~December 2016
First published in Quarterday: A Journal of Classical Poetry, vol. 3, no. 1 (Imbolc 2017): 41.
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