The grey cat crouches
in the lush October grass,
wary and alert.
Notes:
I’ve been a bit busy lately so this one is getting posted a few days after the photo was taken and the poem written. But here in the Pacific Northwest, the grass stays green all winter, so that hasn’t changed much. The grass is even greener now than in the peak of summer, when things often get a bit dry.
Funny thing, I can go for weeks without seeing a cat on my evening walks, but one day in October, it seemed like every cat in town was outside, either lurking in the foliage or dozing in the fast-departing patches of late afternoon sun.
They seemed to sense, like I, that the autumn rains would be coming soon. We all were taking advantage of the last dry days of Indian Summer.
Poetic Champions 