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.