“cats”

In velvet dusk they slip like shadow’s kin,  
Whiskers twitching secrets on the breeze,  
A silent grace in garden, house, and den—  
The liquid dance of feline mysteries.

Their emerald eyes hold half the moon’s old charm,  
A whisper of the wild that time forgets.  
Upon the sill, they bask, both still and warm,  
Bathing in gold sunlight’s softest nets.

With chasing tails and somersaulting leaps,  
They weave through legs upon a kitchen floor,  
Then curl in crescent dreams of mice and sheep,  
And purr a lullaby behind your door.

Soft monarchs ruling corners of the night,  
Attuned to stories humans never hear—  
With every step, they blend both fierce and light,  
And draw the world a whisker’s width more near.

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