As night falls
the cats get skittery.
Their collar bells jingle
as they race
all around the carpet
chasing invisible
friends or prey.
Dark deepens;
they start eyeing the door
and then banging on it
politely
but with great insistence
until I give consent.
They survey
from the top of the steps
the night world below them:
quiet street
lit by just two street lamps
and by the moon and stars.
They can see
in among the grasses
movement that we cannot,
and sometimes
other cats come around
for fighting or friendship.
It’s their world,
unknown to us in ours,
one they don’t care to share.
At daylight
when we open the door
they come in, eat and sleep.
NaPoWriMo Day 20
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