Look, I have a cat in my cupboard. What she seeks in there I know not. I peer in and she stares back, Eyes glint copper and emerald. The soft thud of wooden doors Tells me she crept into the Dark recesses of her secret lair. Oft she slips out again silently, But on occasion- The shrill clatter and clang of steel pots Startle me to my feet and a Blur of tawny fur whips by, Terrorized by her own noise. Yet she will be back, lured by Some strange mysterious whim, To that kitchen cupboard where she Resides temporarily within.
In the Garden this month
The ground is still frozen but there are a few intrepid flowers that pop up as soon as possible in my zone