Stone 11, twentieth day

My Mother’s Cat Greets Visitors

He comes to meet us slowly, thinking hard,
with eyes and ears and nose. He holds his tail
cautiously straight and level, looks and sniffs –
“Oh, people, good! But wait. I don’t think – No.
I don’t know them.” And through the cellar door
(kept always open just as wide as him)
and out of sight. Then safe at last he twists
exchanging head for tail and peeks at us again.

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