Brian

On a late summer's day when the iron earth
roasts and the grass wilts and waves in the breeze,
the garden bees plunder for all their worth
and blackbirds tweet among the turning leaves.
A cat shelters, shaded under a tree
green eyes winking to a close as he sleeps,
paws folded neat in front, his whiskers free
he wiles away the midday heat and keeps
close his company in a hushed black heap.
And the day eases to evening and cools,
the eyes open as the scarlet sun's creep
concludes, darkness now rules in shady pools
and the cat, wrapped in the night's sooty stole
sets off to chase some quick thing down a hole.