Poems From Providence - The Poet's Press

6
Only a grudging carnivore,
you were happy
with that bloodless stew,
those maddeningly crunchy
stars and tidbits,
those tins of neatly
chopped and compressed tuna.
Once, growling with
animal rage, you came back
with a mouse in your jaws;
once, the house was filled
with sparrow feathers;
now and then, you’d catch
and swallow something
with too many legs,
run for the water bowl
to wash it down.
But near the end
you sat on sun-porch
surrounded by finches
and feeding sparrows
no glint of killing
in your blue eyes
calm as a storybook saint
preaching to wildlife
pensive as a Buddha
counting the sunfalls
toward Nirvana