One Sunday at seven
As the dawn's sweet light
Was just slipping
Through the elm branches
I inspected my garden
And spied a sleek cat
Sneaking through
The iris stems
Ever so slowly,
Step by step,
Testing its footing
And sniffing the air
For savory scents.
I did not question
Why it should be there
For to see a cat stalking
Secretly through my garden
Seemed as sure
As fish swimming,
Squirrels scampering
Or the sparrows scattering
To escape the cat's spring.