A Cat Poem

The waking warmth

of morning

rises around my house

in search of

a way in,

in search of

a window I forgot to close

or a weakness within

wall insulation.

I sip coffee

and watch my cats

groom themselves

in anticipation of the day.

They both know

there'll be food soon,

when my cup tips up

toward ceiling,

and the placed-down

sound becomes

a signal

for their excitement.

Clink!

Meow!

And now my legs

become two pylons

for them to play with,

as I fumble

in the kitchen,

trying not to trample

two fluffy landmines.