August Mewsings
by Pam Williams
The weathered porch swing gently sways,
Its burden sound asleep.
The old gray cat enjoys the peace,
His breathing soft and deep.
The roses lend their sweet perfume,
Their branches bowed with blooms
Faint whiffs of mint waft by the cat,
A garden’s rich perfumes.
From clover head to clover head
A bee buzzes and soars.
The locusts drone their summer note,
And echo kitty’s snores.
Just inches from the feline’s ear,
A Monarch butterfly
Is drifting on the sultry air,
But doesn’t catch his eye.
Two pirouetting paper moths
Twirl past on gauzy wings.
A pair of hummingbirds sweep by
One hovers near the swing.
A robin dips across the lawn
And perches on the fence.
He glimpses his arch enemy;
His chirp is loud and tense.
The old gray cat lifts up his head
And sniffs the summer air.
The porch swing is so welcoming!
Shoo birds! He doesn’t care.
Next time the fluttering of wings
May lure him from his bed,
But not today; He breathes a sigh
And shuts his eyes instead.
©2022 Pamela D. Williams
