A piece of empty, barren ground
overgrown and patched with nettles,
broken bricks and sunflowers.
This is where they come.
Stepping deftly from the shadows
they nudge the grass aside
and find a place –
Manxies, Marmalades, and haughty Siamese,
rag eared warriors and plump eunuchs,
queens and catlings
hissing, spitting, rowling
till peace is made
and boundaries agreed.
Then one by one they settle, preen,
consider solemnly
through yawns, the flicking of an ear –
the language of cats is ancient –
little said but much intended.
Pollen glitters on their fur
like gold dust.
By sunset they have gone,
returned along the paths of beaten grass
to milk in saucers, meat from tins -
the clumsy, awkward love of human kind.
terriblefearofcheese.com 
Ian, this is fantastic.
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Thank you Thank you!
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That was nice. Sane. Readable. Enjoyable. Thank you.
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Thank you !
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this is a terrific little piece, announcing itself quietly then expanding to a jostling vignette and then that unexpected, magic denouement: they wend their way back home, to ‘the clumsy, awkward love of humankind’ . I came to this late but glad I found it —
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Thanks for enjoying the two poems – I am honoured to be in your commonplace book !
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