To A Cat

Now and then ,
between the finest unfolding of a day,
I meet the cat ;


In the shadow of the trees,
Flare of the sun,
Or the secretive parting of brown leaves.

Somewhere after succeeding a few fish bones
Then encumbered in the carcass of white soil
I find it absorbed in his self ,
With his heart ruminating
Like a bee.

Yet ,continually he scrapes his claws against the gulmohar tree
Pursuing the sun all day.

Now I see him,
Then it is lost somewhere.

In the softening evening sun, crimsoned he plays
Caressing his white paws
Fisting the night in tiny blobs
Then diffusing them all over this infinity.