it was dawn on Samhain and the house was all quiet
The cat feigned sleep but I wouldn’t buy it.
The claws were still stretching in those soft little toes
and I’m sure that a squeek would alert that pink nose.
I crept to the back door and twisted the lock
I slipped on one boot and straightened my sock
Poised on one foot with my other in hover
I saw a slight movement from under the cover
Before I could manage my foot into place
You would think that a gun shot had started the race
Dear sweet little Snowy so true to her nature
Shot passed me like lightning blue white as a glacier
She shot through the door not brushing the jam
A clean get away - she was free - on the lamb.
I heard not a growl, not a whisper of noise
She obvious planned this as one of her ploys
“Have fun” I called out to the vacuum of air
There was nothing to do but offer a stare
With a sigh I slipped on my remaining boot
but closing the door - at this point was moot
How is it they know? As if reading our mind
I’m afraid if I knew I wouldn’t like what I’d find.
-Berta Morgan