My Friend, the Black Cat

When I go downstairs from my second
floor apartment to check my mail
sometimes I hear meow, meow, meow
meow, meow, meow, meow ….

I look down to my right and see
under the blinds and through
the panes in the glass door
a black cat calling me,
his paws stretching against the glass.

I smile and I say, “Hi kitty,” and
put my hands against the glass on
the other side, as if touching
his stretched out paws.

He only does this when his owner
is not at home. I think that black cat
is an extrovert who gets lonely
when he is all alone.

And I enjoy his once in awhile
greetings. They are serendipitous
to me.

Bob Boyd

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