Mr. Meow
For I will consider Mr. Meow,
For he is a cat with a blade of grass under his paw,
For the grass is gone in three licks,
For he blinks, for he purrs the stomach of plenty,
For he yawns when the clock strikes noon.
It's noon now. Mr. Meow rises,
His front legs stretched forward in homage to his shadow.
And for the sake of his pink tongue
He prances to his water bowl.
He pokes his nose at the image of himself
And his whiskers rake the surface.
Done, Mr. Meow braves the jungly yard,
For he is a cat with seven days off,
For he is the warden of the sparrow and the pear shaped
robin,
For he is the prince of the flea in his left shoulder,
For he is the conductor of that bell under his chin,
For briefly he is the sentry at an anthill gone cold.
Mr. Meow seizes the day.
He steps through hillside grass that whispers at his thighs.
He shakes the flea from his left shoulder to his right knee.
He nudges the bell and the birds sail into the trees.
He drinks from his paw print filled with rain.
He sits with his tail like a question mark behind him,
For he must consider his duties:
For one catch a leaf in midair,
For two avoid all roads with yellow stripes.
For three roll to his back and pedal his legs,
For four spark the stockings of a nicely dressed woman,
For five perk up ears when a Chihuahua barks,
For six venture to the fence and meow to the bark,
For seven climb a tree and meow to get down,
For eight blink sleepily at the embers in the fireplace,
For nine snag his collar on a branch,
For ten hurry from rain and meow at the back door.
Mr. Meow knows best. He loves all of his nine lives.
He knows the kindness of a stranger's caress,
For his father's father sailed on the Nile,
For his mother's mother hauled her young in her teeth,
For snow taught him cold, fire taught him Stay Back,
For he stepped into fog and once disappeared,
For he learned dizziness from a grandfather clock's pendulum.
True, Mr. Meow was trained to sniff for mice.
True, he befriends the toad and the toad's cousin, the tadpole.
True, he will consider what falls beneath the kitchen table.
His fears are rain, and bats with reddish eyes.
His happiness is tossing the bottle cap and catching it
in his fangs.
But what more does he know, what to consider?
For in idleness he fools a walnut,
For his head shovels into a nice girl's lap,
For he cries but not too loudly,
For he can raise a leg over his head,
For he sports his grey coat,
For his tail whips him to action when a wheel comes too close,
For he reigns tall on the throne of a garbage can,
For his eyes shine in the closet,
For he climbs a curtain for a better view of the sofa,
For if a dam breaks he can swim with his ears pulled back,
For he creeps to a dirty sock under the bed,
For under the bed he dusts with his belly,
For his engines run,
For he comes running when the refrigerator door is opened.
Spying a plate of chicken wings,
He'll reach in with washed and eager paws
And, unlike the dog, devour politely just what he can eat!
-by Gary Soto
