Poetry: Squirrel, cat at window (for Pollyanna)

Such fluttering, such twitching tails —

my poor cat pressed against the glass,

the nutkin in the bush outside just laughing,

laughing as it nudges that clear barrier that splits

their worlds, that my poor inbound puss

so sealed in love's security against the glass

will never penetrate, will never touch

that trembling, teasing mass of  fur,

the brazen one, the wild one

that shakes his flag as if to say.

See me-see me-come out-we'll play,

then runs away and up the maple tree

into the vast domain, the sun, the rain

that is its home.

While far below poor Polly waits,

her tail still fluttering in hope,

until she tires at last and finds

the pillow in her chair

where she will sleep

till suppertime makes

all things clear

in stinking fish

(or so I wish.)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Grayce Scholt is a retired English professor from Mott College who wrote art reviews for the Flint Journal. Her book of poetry, Bang! Go All the Porch Swings, is available online from Amazon and locally at Pages Bookstore in downtown Flint.