Prowl (Poetry)

I am keeping him company tonight
close on his sinuous shoulder
as he pads the chill length of the street
and pauses awhile on its corner.

In the lee of a hedge or indifferent wall
he stitches the silence along
and sniffs the grey fabric of night
rolling its scent on his tongue.

In the lanes, in the fields full of dark
I am trailing his flickering shade
his eyes are the lamps in my head
his thoughts run like mice ready-made.

Fear ripples the fur on my neck
blood freezes the frame stood alone
and nothing prowls after the fact
once the feline connection is gone.