The Fat Cat

In a halo of guard hairs, the orange tabby crouches in the warm slant of morning sun. The airspace above is intersected with darting forms that cast valkyrie shadows on spring grass and cool concrete. His yellow-moon eyes are riveted. Birdsong is belted from the top of a lamp post; haughty talons click on the luminaire. Try as he may, that Tom will never catch a robin.

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