Dear Cardinal, I am so sorry
the cat who we keep as a pet
ate your partner.
You advertise for a mate
all over again
from the top of the forsythia.
Is it my guilt that detects a sad note,
or does that beating nugget of flesh
pump regret through your veins?
Either way, I absorb your loss,
buried no doubt as cat shit
under the earth freshly dug for peas and spinach.
So true. Poor little birdy.
This is just wonderful, Melissa. You have not anthropomorphized the cardinal but hinted at the possibility that it might feel as we feel about love lost….and who knows? But that’s the circle of life.
Thank you, Cynthia. Kind words!
Hahaha. I loved that!
Glad you enjoyed the humor. Thanks for reading.
Truly lovely photo. And there’s something Shakespearean about your conclusions … alas, poor cardinal.
Thank you! Yes, hard to deny the prosaic ending has a certain inevitability to it.
Oh dear, poor bird! Does the cat wear a bell? They did some research in the UK and as far as I remember cats with bells were less successful in catching birds! Great poem too!
Sadly, the cat has managed to wriggle her way out of numerous collars with bells, and even when she wore them she managed to catch things. She is a dyed in the fur hunter. I try not to let her our when the birds are most active.
So well done; and the fact that the adorable killer is sitting next to a bleeding heart is the pièce de resistance!
Nice catch! Glad you enjoyed it.
Here am I taking you seriously, and you drop in the cat shit… 🙂 –Curt
Cats have a way of bringing you back to the mundane. They always seem to be leaving behind some kind of a mess for their owners to clean up.
Most of the time, they define it as play, including the partially eaten mice left on your doorstep. 🙂
Ouch! Other than that, what a delightfully written poem on a (sadly) familiar scenario. Over the years some of my cats have engaged in such crimes.