Auckland Poetry

A Farm Cat.

The cat sits on the steps outside the scullery
watches with indifference maids clean urns
and separate cream from milk to make butter.

It has had a saucer of cream and is tired after
a long night of wildlife, violence and murder
that goes unseen by sleeping humans.

So it curls up on the steps and warmed by
the spring sun thinks of nothing in particular
except, perhaps, of another saucer of cream

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