My spotted cat, you're growing more sedate.
You've quit your ploy designed to startle me-
No longer do you crouch and hide and wait,
Then jump straight up, defying gravity.
When I contrive a sudden thump or scrape,
You don't pretend stark terror any more
And feign a frantic effort to escape,
With futile pawing on the polished floor.
You are less rakish now, and you subdue
The fervor of your romps. You seem to sense
That gentler attributes become you too.
That lovingness brings loving recompense.
I too am more subdued and gentler now.
Our summers wane, small friend; our arbors bow.
By Irene Warsaw of Michigan
Thursday, March 27, 2008