The Playful Cat
By
John I. Blair
Like so many pet cats
Mine loves nothing more
Than to roll on his back,
Stretch full length,
And expose his underbelly
To evident risk of tickling,
All the while closing his eyes
And pretending sleep.
Now you know, as do I,
That if I were so imprudent
As to accept his invitation,
Only the de-clawed state
Of his forepaws would save me
From serious raking;
As it is, biting and gutting
Would be genuine possibilities.
But doesn't he look cute there,
All soft and playful, no harm
In an ounce of him?
Is that how we look to God,
All playful and soft,
Innocent and silly,
Yet ready with shock and awe
At any transgression?
©2003 John I. Blair
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