Two Feral Cats
Beneath this Carribean balcony,
where the cliffs descend sequentially,
two feral cats reside, mostly unnoticed.
The mother, white grey, I have not seen,
the kitten once, playfully, multi-coloured,
in layered shrubbery...
Kitchen fed probably, accidental offerings.
In the street nearby,
small silent feral dogs wander past...
How long does homelessness last?
In the morning...
Before humble sweeper man arrives,
smog, once clean mask, pick up trash,
juice cartons, other throwaways...
The emaciated human bums stir,
search about with blankness in their eyes.
Cigarette butts, wisps of Ganja discards,
barefoot denizens of humankind's decline,
unaware... two cats play survival games.
In the skies birds soar,
clouds drift by lazily.
The kitten runs, falls,
facing an emerging world,
not imprisined, not bound,
not patriotic, not traitor,
not god fearing, not calendar keeping.
Sheathed in tropical leafs,
hidden in mother's safekeeping,
Above all tidal calls.
Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York.