fences

Good Morning, Black Cat.

Here’s a l’il poem written on my way to work. Every morning into work I pass the same picket fence and–presumably–the same black cat. I’m driving and he’s walking and we both have some where to go, and I always wonder where he’s heading or what he’s doing. This is what I came up with today.

Enjoy.

 

Black cat

skulking past the picket fence

in the morning sunlight–

Do you stalk your shadow?

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