Running here
Running there
She's a blur to the eye
And she's into everything
That isn't taped
Or nailed shut;
Nothing is safe
From her curious nose
Or her inquisitive paws;
What are kitten toys
When there are so many other,
More interesting things to be had,
Like fragile Christmas ornaments,
Generations old,
Or rolls of toilet paper--
What fun!
Then, suddenly,
In mid-play,
She drops as if shot
Into a fast sleep,
Her tiny kitten batteries charging
For the next assault,
And I am left amazed
And bemused
By the abruptness
Of the quiet
That settles 
In her wake.