It's Still Life

Do Cats Know How to Swim?
(Or A Torrential Tale in One Question)

The rain has not stopped for two days.
The patio is a shallow lake.
The birdbath is a waterfall in revolt.
And the cat — who is not hers, never hers,
stares out as if the world
has personally offended him
with its weather.

Without turning,
whiskers twitching at each drop’s plink,
he asks:
“Do cats… know how to swim?”

The Old Woman looks up from her mending.
“I suppose,” she says,
“in the way spoons know how to fly
when thrown by crows.”

The cat considers this.
“So… that’s a no.”

“It’s a ‘only if necessary.”
“And is it necessary?”
“Do you see any fish indoors?”

A long, solemn pause.
The cat lifts a paw,
as if testing the idea of water
from a safe distance.

“Then I shall remain,” he declares,
“land-based.”

And he sits.
And watches.
And plots his revenge
on the sky.