Returned

for Richard, my beloved campanion animal

 

I spy your yellow eyes

running like a miniature puma across our porch

in the cold sunlight of a November New England winter.

My assistant is too slow

to stop your feline feet

from running away again.

I place a bowl of your food

outside, turning on an extra indoor light

so your catty sneakiness doesn’t

sneak past me.

But once again,

you eat, run,  escape assistant.

I sigh,

thinking I’m destined to spend

another night with you out of doors.

Less than an hour later,

you appear at slider

and respond to calls

of  “Come in.”

Personally,

I think you smelled the first snow

coming on the air

and opted for safety of temperature controlled house.

But I am too overjoyed

at your return
to feel slighted.