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Summer  Cat

A black tail attached to a pretty white body

Foraging the dirt, the smelly & bloody

A missing ear above an empty eye

Survival of the fittest, she can’t be shy

Her four legs scratch dirt and plastic alike

Above and below a wave-battered dyke

She dwells in a dump of tourist’s trash waste

Whilst turning foul calories into a gorgeous feast

Nobody’s pet and ignored by all

She scavenges the beaches at the tidal roll

A piece of fish or a dying sea star

Gives her a meal without a scar

It makes her meow the following day

After the last tourist has gone away

As winter storms batter old fortress walls

My cat stands cold spells, after a foggy fall

When spring arrives with new tourists, yahoo!

It will find her perhaps with baby cats, too.

©2004 photo and poem by Franz L. Kessler