Penny, who is lying in the sun

Golden light, having thrown off night's chill
sprawls luxuriously over you.

As a majestic beast on the Serengeti, you
relax supine, poised to sniff the air and to receive
your subjects - slender blades of gold and green,
cheerful citizens content to bow and sway in your presence.

A crimson guest chitters at the feeder, his voice
tumbling and cartwheeling with the same
exuberance that roly-poly honey-colored offspring might;
it barely registers a flick of your silky and royal ear.

If this were another life, you might have a pride
of creatures to protect and feed and survey and groom.
But it's only this life, sunshine on a yard that waits patiently
to be mowed and trees that begin to shed summer's
work with a hint of future glory.

And I think maybe you have something to teach me
about being the king of this life.

Penny, holding court in the sunshine

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