Cat Burglar

There one lived a cat that could bark, its owner would perch in the park, as to lap up the looks on the faces of crooks, confused, as they tripped through the dark. -Amy Struthers

The Park

Northern pintails brushing blue, the crescendo of their wings, weaving windsong into words some say that, “Up jumped spring.”   The rising sun, through veils of dun, atop a pool of glass with flitting beams, does bend the streams to cast a liquid brass.   Children fashion cradles, and white whiskers out of string, and…