My garden hasn't been the same
since the day that Black Cat came.

I see him most mornings, stalking
with the fluid motion of liquid
spilling from a tumbled glass.

And the grass barely moves.

Then he pounces, all teeth and claws,
boxing with his clever paws.

And I watch him dancing, joyous,
almost faster than the eye can see.
No victim caught; just glad to be alive.

I wish he'd stay the whole of day.