Deus Ex Machina
The cats watched the bird behind the shade slats,
Its skinny shadow, half sun and half fear.
Shade slats clacking and feather, feather, feather.
What did that tiny bird brain think of the glass?
The tree branch beckoned, but "Thou shalt not pass."
Meanwhile, the cats waited. One paused to lick its fur.
I caught it in a sheet: I'd crept up from the rear,
and it just dropped in, one foot from the cats.