Feline (August)

Her head, whether alert or resting, is sensitive to walls and fence lines. Eyes, watchful at an instant, lead her body movement through coming times. Eats well. April tiptoes through August before the rains. Her back is a straight line via the garden, a hillside waiting for the door to open, an eternal curve asleep. Ribcage balances before she pounces. Later she is the image of indifference, cleaning paws with tongue. Immaculate coat! Her tail is all manner of emotion, happy high or quivering; twice its size at sight of a tom, or coming of thunder, as thunder will, soon.

Feline (April)

She is roundyball asleep upon square armchair. She is stay-at-home feline scarce fit to stray-alone, frightening wildlife. April is Lion-of-Judah-like atop fence, Bast-like at backdoor, Cheshire-like in company. Black-and-white motion in fur, a picture moving out of sight, no credits. Enjoys heartfood cubed up, dry oblongs and sandpaper-tongue water. April chooses underfloor quarters, leaf-layered sunspots, windmills of her mind. Settling selfishly on prized precincts, she slips free of proprietorship, on whim. She is clawful at ravaged curtain, unattuned to customer services. Parasitical to some, to most she is restoration of contentment. Her eyes glow like street reflectors in the dark.