Cat Eyes

Coming home with morning eyes
before dawn with rose fingers
has massaged the East with pink
and stars still ride Heaven’s vault,
I come upon a gray cat
sitting in a circled stain
upon the asphalt pavement,
with one long drip skittering—

Truck in front of me veered ’round,
avoided cat head and paws
(leonine at crest of hill)
couchant at lane’s center,
brake lights strobing for minutes
as it swerves into left lane,
avoiding rough beast seated.

Cat eyes turn to meet headlights;
green or yellow turns to gold
and I know gray cat still lives.
Dangerous curve here, steep hill,
still too dark, tired drivers,
what could I do anyway?
And I, the Levite, drive on.

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