Sonnet #286

Catkins, cattails, cats and kittens, will all,

bob and bounce and beckon to be tugged,

And not a one respects the lines we plugged

into our maps, just wind and the passing fall

of weather in the streets of spring's ripening

I know the familiar dances of the season

I watch the sky for sudden storms and reasons

to wear a raincoat, listen for the cats that sing

Because there will be waves of cats, pouring

up from all the cracks and hidden places

Among the reeds and long grasses, scouring

every little living hole, every tussock, these vast races

That scurry and bob and dance and their soaring

The wild, unkempt grass - that beautiful long grass