Bright Birds

Deceptive, drowsy,
the gray cat, Tempus, in doldrums
lazes, purring, stretching.
I have watched him.
Cunning eyes half-closed
he stalks bright birds in the garden,
near day lilies.
The birds swoop and glide, flutter,
wings wet from flights
through the sprinkler's sweeps.
They light on dry grass,
strut and shake themselves,
are lulled. Then,
Tempus pounces on one bird.
The rest are routed.
And Tempus fugit.