There You Sit

By John I. Blair 

 

There you sit,
Patient on a pile of leaves,
Waiting for me.

By now you’ve learned
I’ll be around
By and by,

A jar or two in hand
Of chow and treats,
Talking softly,

Trying in my clumsy style
To let you know
I’m not a threat.

Ours is a strange game,
You intent on being
Wild and free,

Me so drawn to help
I typically forget
You’re not tame.

So I make little nests
For you to snuggle in,
Then complain

You choose instead
A cold hard spot
For curling up.

You, finally convinced
After months of this dance
I’m somehow OK.

I’m one kind note
In your unfriendly world
On which you can depend,

No longer questioning my motive,
No longer primed
To run away,

No longer quite as wild
As you were born
To be.

©2018 John I. Blair, 12/30/2018
Photo of Patio Cat shown below.

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