– Clarence Holm

Heard a gentle tapping on the glass patio door,
My cats have been prowling; now back to report their score.
Standing at the doorway, doing their nightly dance
A three-count, two-step; one paw left in a stance.

And from a different corner two other cats loudly yowl
A street lamp shines a spotlight and shadows start to fall.
Felines begin to polka, three dips including a twist
A howling country cat ballet, ending with Toms dismissed.

I slid open the squeaking door; shy cats vanish in the night,
Abandoning our Pete and Charlie before a hint of light.
As quickly as possible the pair enter scrambling to their bowl
The seemed a little shaken, the encounter had took its toll.

Sniffing at the kibbles, lapping a quick drink,
They both eye the hallway no need to think.
Naptime’s over yonder just atop the cover,
Sleeping till tomorrow or their nerves recover.