Fur And Feather (Poetry)

Panther-sleek, he balances upon the branch
his angel, seated close, seems comfortably at leisure
with that high vantage point —
they are a couple sharing a snow view
across the village where poor people mix
their work and winter pleasure —
tramp the whitened fields
while children sledge and snowball
through their smaller world...
no one noticing where cat and angel perch
watching the activity beneath.

Do they converse? Can angels talk to cats
and make their observations understood?

The subtle way their bodies lean suggests
communication — a common interest implied
in how his tail hangs like thought’s pendulum —
its black curve echoing her sweeping wing tips’ grace —
fur and feather guides
to wisdom blooming in the frozen air.

Do they rejoice, condemn or analyse
humanity so self-absorbed and blind
to spirits lodged among cold limbs of trees?
Working dogs and horses sniff and snort their way
sensing strangeness — casting for its source
yet none look up — they see only the ground —
no skyheld vision stops them in their tracks.

The angel — blonde, barefooted — branded by her wings
folded into images of peace
while he — the cat — the predator — reins in
his feline nature and indulges her
companionable with myth and surreal chat
they contemplate the scurry and the fate
of lesser beings — compare the short blundering lives
of mice and men.