Furry gray C, stacked paws stretched,
Rose-glass ears, cat-encircling tail.
Seventy in people years, yet never
clawed a sparrow or chickadee. Still,
morning light splintered through trees draws you to
this rug beneath our dangling bird feeder.
A woodpecker lights—care-free seed slinger—
and your almost-forgotten wildcat spirit
stands at attention. You raise your chin,
shadow of ancient dream niggling, tail quivering,
brief interruption of sleep.