Night, the cat I follow,
a shadow to the moon.
The sky above is hollow
and the distance out of tune.
Darkened leaves are falling
I hear their cannons’ roar,
soon the pitched and throaty ships
will beach upon the shore.
Night, the cat I follow
glancing back I see,
a streak across the summer sky
and a light engulfing me.
The wind cries lost in forests
and then swallows up my spark;
for night, the cat I follow,
down into the dark.
Greg is a new writer from Maine, and this is his first published poem. When he’s not out walking in nature, kayaking or fishing, he likes to write short stories and poems to get the ideas out of his head and onto paper, where they belong.
Published 8/12/21
I’m there!
Can see the cat, and feel the hairs on my neck.
Nice job, Greg.
Keep ‘em coming.
This is great. Deliciously ambiguous and had me creating a dramatic story from it of escape and persuit. Nice work sir!
Excellent opening to a horror flick. I can hear Vincent Price speak the words! This is awesome!!