My White Cat

Her long sleek body stretches, she yawns and shakes her head, she sees me through the window and decides she must be fed, her soft white paws pad silently across the dew wet lawn, she almost smiles, as if to say "how are you this fine morn", With breakfast done, sat on the mat, she starts to clean her fur, between each lick of paw or ear, I hear her gently purr, she sleeps till noon, regaining strength, used up I have no doubt, in wild adventures, secretly lived, all night while she is out, When in the garden, a languid air belies a wary eye, there is very little movement that could ever pass her by, a squirrel darting through the hedge is chased away with ease, a field mouse, caught upon the lawn, becomes a toy to tease, Last year I fed so many birds, this year there are but few, brave is the magpie who cares to take rest, here, as it used to do, But, in the evening, curled up on my knee, she brings a smile to my face, for, as her companion, she leaves me in awe, by her beauty and by her grace.