by DL McCulloch

Created on: April 20, 2008

I sit patiently at the end of the pier,
under a sleepy sun warming my back,
with pole in hand; my line cast, waiting.
Just one nibble, one dip of the end tip,
for a nice catch to bring home for supper.

I notice from the corner of my eye,
several black cats, scrawny, street worn,
sitting just as patiently, for the moment
when I will not be aware of my basket
full of tasty bait sitting off to my side.

Running their tongues across their mouths,
they creep forward a little at a time;
closer and closer to that basket of mine.
Waiting for just one chance, one dip of the paw,
for a nice catch to bring home for supper.

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