Now that summer is here, we tend to keep the house closed up all day, to keep the sun out. After dark, though, I like to open the windows wide to let the cool air circulate. That means I am a lot more aware of the noises of the different animals during the night.
When we used to feed the cats on the verandah, the food trays would occasionally be left out overnight. They were always empty in the morning.
I came across this old draft in my notebook the other day. I should probably add it to my pile of ‘drafts to be dealt with’ as I’m interested in how the repetition works although I’m not particularly happy with the line breaks. I wonder if they succeed in helping the reader to the sort of short, heavily-paused phrasing that I had in mind.
Night visitors
I think, perhaps, it wasn’t a cat
who ate the catfood
left overnight on the verandah.
The milk-trail paw prints
across terracotta were more
tiggywinkle than tom. I was woken
by two types of jay and other
corvids squabbling; perhaps they
ate the catfood left overnight
on the verandah.
The plates were empty,
drying in the sunshine
and the cats were crying
to be fed. When kibble rattled
onto melamine, a tiny lizard fled.
Maybe his family were
the early risers who ate
the catfood left overnight
on the verandah.
don't confuse the narrator 