Hey, Diddle Diddle

A mid-September rain pours
down, the gray sky light
and rain straight down the windowpanes

Low clouds feather down Limbaugh Canyon

I scan the woods,
looking for our beloved Beyellen,
wishing her appearance,
listening for her at the door,
seeing her silhouette
in the kitchen window, one paw
slightly raised in elegant appeal

She has gone missing.
I imagine she is with Mr Jeeves,
a handsome tuxedo cat with a bobbed
tail,
a local gentleman cat who has sought
adventure: a feline fling.

Hey, diddlediddle

I imagine they are living in that vacant house
down on Wheatridge Street.
Mr Jeeves brings her fresh mice and an occasional
squirrel.
They dance by the light of the Harvest Moon.
They are safe and dry and there is no need
to worry.
They are safe and dry.

I will wait.
She will soon come
up the drive, tail at full mast.
The back door is ajar.
They are waiting out the rain.