Ode to Curving Spines

I mentioned twice that I hadn't seen the gray cat
in three days, the small kitten with the fluff
on its head and terror in the pads of its paws,
the curve of its spine as it darted to the break
in the concrete and the cover of the building.
The black cat stayed in the open longer,
wary yellow eyes focusing on every sound,
including the golden birds with caution drawn
in the lines of their wings when they stopped
short of the bread crumbs for fear of claws.
But when the gray kitten didn't venture
out for food or even stretch out one lone paw
at a piece of chicken from under the building,
I knew the little one had been right to carry
the fear in its stride, caution in its eyes.