Pests and Patience

Fly’s Demise
   Or, Channeling Ziggy the Cat

I see it.
Black on black,
flitting from crumb to crumb
across the surface
of my countertop,
visible only
by motion.

I stop,
still my breath,
quiet my body.

I wait.

In this moment
I am my cat,
lying patiently under the hosta,
feeling the earth,
hearing each sound,
defining the singular scents,
waiting to see a movement,
waiting to pounce on the prey.

2 Responses to Pests and Patience

  1. Sharyn Korthas says:

    Hello Penny: I often awake before the dawn and to start my day I read your meandering thoughts which I truly enjoy. Thought you would be pleased to hear this. Keep that writing coming!


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