Milele
Tranquility, despite his tiny size,
Rests strong in him as if a tiger’s dream
Has come to dwell behind his calm blue eyes
Because it chose to sleep encased in cream-
And-grey striped cranium of fur. Of course
He dozes almost all his days away,
Yet somehow seems as regal as a Norse
Divinity sung in a minstrel’s lay
Although collapsed in mead-induced cool calm
Outside a feline Valhalla. Awake
He scales apartment walls with grace of palm
Frond playing in Eden before that snake.
It’s not that he is innocent of claws.
He just believes in sleeping through all laws.