I look out the thick glass kitchen window
Admiring misty lavender eyes of late morning
And find Blanco, a neighborhood
Feral cat scratching at the sturdy security door.
I utter a short prayer
That feels like the high-tide of river
And I play with him, but explain with my eyes
That our wrinkled yard is off-limits
As he is not to attack our dog again.
I usher him from the yard
Petting him frequently
As Spring leaves already drip green.
He watches me and speaks his mind
Like a river of shadows.
I pet him through the silvery fence
Until a glistening blue hybrid car
Frightens him as he scampers
Into a bell of sunlight.
Rick Davis graduated from Northeastern Illinois University, and several graduate schools. He is married, is from Chicago, and worked in market research and urban ministry.