Six a.m.
Thump on the bed. Over to the window sill.
The cat sits herself down
and looks outside.
Immobile,
she stares out the window.
I raise my head and look out too
but all is calm.
The leaves hang motionless,
suspended, waiting for a breeze.
Almost imperceptibly
dawn merges into day.
The cat sits still and stares.
The air is filled with birdsong.
She must see something
or perhaps is simply waiting
for something to come her way.
I’ll never know what she is looking at.
I’ll never know what she’s perceiving.
The light gets stronger.
I throw aside the covers
and the cat jumps down, knowing
she’ll get breakfast.
Erika Bizzarri 