Friday 24 May 2024

The Immortals



My neighbour tends to buy me plaques

ornamental garden ones

metal versions of the creatures that stalk my garden.


There’s the pink cat on the back fence

paw perpetually  poised 

but doomed to never catch its prey


And below him the butterfly pinned

in seasons’ rusted hues, wings extended at full span

graced to ever evade pink cat’s maw.


I have added to these a quartet of cats

in a neat row but facing backwards

tails curled for an adventure never to be embarked upon


Much like Yeats' birds of hammered gold

eternally endeavouring

to keep that drowsy emperor awake


All this straining futility, immortal as it is,

is enough to remind me to savour

this morning’s breakfast tea and toast.

Copyright 2024 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

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