Strutting down his wooden catwalk,
Whiskers poised, he purrs and stalks
Mice below the mill worn bedrocks,
But first he stops to strike a pose.
Yes, he knows that we can see him.
We are guests within his kingdom.
Nothing stays unless he lets them
(He even chases off the crows).
After noon he’ll find a shadow
Chase it as he fights a battle
Under brush, through herds of cattle,
Until he stops to then repose.
(Poetry copyright 2010 by Devin Routh)